Flam Gush
by Kaitrin
Summary: Complete. A onetime job doing guard duty turns into something neither Lina nor Gourry ever expected. LG. Rating for sexual situations & violence.
1. Guard Duty

Flam Gush 

Lina sat next to Gourry in the semi-gloom. They were supposed to be doing guard duty for the local lord, and it was turning out to be extremely boring. Lina wasn't sure why Deremar thought somebody would break into his mansion this week. Supposedly he had received some threatening letters. Regardless, it certainly made him more than willing to meet their price. Lina paused to consider that angle for a moment. It was true that she was bored out of her skull, but they were making quite a bit of money for relatively little work. She wondered if she could use that trick in the future when they were short on cash. Just find a place with a skittish noble, send him a couple of death-threats, and then offer their services as body-guards. The beauty of the plan was that since they were the source of the threat, they wouldn't even have to pay attention, and it would be easy money. Lina sighed. Somehow, she didn't think Gourry would go for something like that.

"Why the sigh?" Gourry was leaning against the wall, his arms folded over his chest, and his long legs crossed at the ankles. 

"Oh, nothing. Just bored." They had been sitting there for several hours, with no indication that anything was going to happen. Lina stood up and lifted her arms over her head, stretching. Then she put her hands on the small of her back and arched backwards, trying to work out the kink that settled in from several hours of sitting against a stone wall. In the middle of her stretch, Lina heard a sudden hiss from Gourry's general vicinity, as if someone had just taken a deep breath. She reacted without hesitation. "Lighting," she cried out as she lunged forward in Gourry's direction, already preparing to follow up with a Mono Volt.

Gourry was caught completely off guard, and he scrabbled awkwardly out of her way. "Geez, Lina," he complained as he shaded his eyes against the sudden brightness and blinked repeatedly. "I know you're bored, but you don't have to take it out on me!"

Lina didn't bother to reply as she scanned the area for her quarry. "I know you're back there," she stated through gritted teeth.

"Lina," Gourry started.

"Shut up, Gourry," she hissed, straining her ears for any other sound. The fact that she couldn't see anyone had her rather concerned, but also confused. As far as she knew, the only creatures that could render themselves invisible were monsters. Xellos, for example, had been quite fond of the "disembodied voice" thing. However, monsters also didn't need to breathe, so she should not have heard anything. And what monster would be clumsy enough to tip them off so obviously? Unless it was toying with them . . . Lina's blood began to boil. She ground her teeth together and began to cast an Elmekia Lance. She knew she probably wouldn't hit, but she hoped it would goad whatever was back there into revealing its location.

"Lina!" Gourry restrained her with a hand on her shoulder. "What the hell are you doing? You're gonna wake everyone up!"

"I heard something back there!" Lina gestured to the area where Gourry had only moments before been sitting. It briefly crossed her mind that Gourry was being unusually thick, but the rest of her attention was focused on their surroundings, waiting for the unseen to reveal itself. "Check on Deremar and make sure he's okay," she ordered tersely.

Gourry started to protest, but Lina hissed at him, so he shrugged and went over to the door leading to Deremar's rooms. Once there, he hesitated briefly, then taking a deep breath, he opened the door just a bit. Almost immediately, he closed the door quietly. The silence stretched out.

"Well?" Lina demanded, once her curiosity got the best of her.

"He's fine," Gourry replied in a strangled voice.

Something about the way Gourry sounded caught Lina's attention more firmly than his unusual behavior in their current situation. She risked a quick glance at him, and was shocked to see that he was blushing.

"What the . . . Gourry what's got into you?" Lina marched over to the swordsman, ready to deck him to get him to pay attention. His reactions were decidedly off. If she couldn't count on his instincts, their current situation would be a great deal more dangerous, rather than the easy and boring job she had been contemplating moments before.

"Into me? What's gotten into you?" Gourry shot back. He grabbed her elbow and tried to steer her away from the door to Deremar's room.

Lina shrugged him off, her concerns about an unseen enemy in the room almost forgotten. His reactions were not just off, they were _wrong, and it scared her. About the only thing she had trouble about predicting with Gourry was what stupid thing he would say next. But right now . . . Lina ticked off each point in her mind: he hadn't heard or been aware of the presence of an enemy, he barely even checked on Deremar, he was blushing, and now he was trying to distract her from the job they were supposed to be doing by picking a fight. It didn't add up. No matter how she looked at it, something, some crucial piece of the puzzle, was missing. And the missing piece was most likely in Deremar's room. She took a deep breath, and turned to open the door._

Gourry stopped her by placing a hand on her shoulder. "I told you, he's fine." There was just the faintest hint of strain in his voice this time.

"I know," Lina replied as she glanced at him over her shoulder, trying with an effort to keep her tone light. "I just want to see for myself." She tried to gauge his reaction. If anything, his blush intensified, and he seemed to be fighting an internal battle of some sort. Then he let his breath out and released her shoulder. With a shrug, he went back over to the bench and sat down, folding his arms. 

Rather than providing her with any clues to what was going on, Gourry's reaction left her even more confused than before. She thought she heard him mutter something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Don't say I didn't warn you," just as she pushed the door to Deremar's room open. After a brief glance, she closed it again, but that one glance had been enough. Right now the image was burned into her brain.

Gourry was right. Deremar was fine. In fact, he was probably more than fine. He was sitting in bed, leaning against an elaborately carved headboard, and his hand was tangled in a thick head of blond hair that was enthusiastically bobbing up and down in his lap. His groans were quite expressive, a counterpoint to the distinct slurping sounds Lina heard.

Oh. Lina felt her face go flaming hot. Well, that explained a lot: why Gourry had been blushing, why his voice sounded strangled, why he didn't want her to look. She leaned on the door, struggling to compose herself. Then another thought occurred to her, one she eagerly seized upon: it also might explain why she couldn't find whatever it was that had made that sound. If it had been a monster, the activities in the next room might have scared it off. Monsters fed on negative energy, and were weakened by positive energy, which is why Amelia would always sing songs about how wonderful life was whenever they wanted to get the upper-hand with Xellos. Another way of looking at it, though, was that monsters fed on destructive energy and were weakened by creative energy, like holy magic. Although Lina was sure monsters would enjoy rape, she wondered if consensual sex, which always had the potential to create life, would be painful to them. But then again, what Deremar and the girl were doing certainly wasn't going to get her pregnant . . . 

Lina shook her head trying to get the memory out of her mind, and focused on the task at hand. Although she was pretty sure whatever it had been was gone, she went through the motions of double-checking the room. Her light spell was still floating obediently in the center of the room, but the bright lighting made Lina realize that the room was actually better suited to semi-gloom. Deremar might be the lord of this town, but it was a pretty small town, and Deremar's tastes ran to garish rather than elegant. 

The walls of the room were painted in a coral color, which was quite pretty. Unfortunately it clashed horribly with the furniture, which was carved out of heavy mahogany wood and upholstered in deep violet velvet that had seen better days. In the bright light shed by her spell, the wood looked scratched and cracked, and the fabric looked threadbare and moth-eaten. The bench that Gourry was sitting on, in contrast, was hewn out of white marble. At some point in the bench's history, it had been painted with red, green, and yellow. Most of the paint had worn off over time, but flecks of the paint were still ingrained in the cracks and crevices. The long cushion was very lumpy, although admittedly an improvement over sitting on bare marble. 

The furnishings were nothing, however compared to the way the alcoves were decorated. There were four alcoves, one on each wall. Inside each, a piece of sculpture sat proudly displayed on a fluted marble pedestal (which like the bench, still had bright flecks of paint embedded within its grooves). The sculpture pieces were well executed and realistic, a tribute to the skills of the artist who had carved them. Whoever commissioned the pieces, though, had absolutely no taste. There was a jellyfish, with its tentacles artfully carved so that they draped over the pedestal. There was a bed of barnacles in another alcove, some sea urchins in another, and the final alcove boasted a frog that bore a strong resemblance to Joyrock in his "small" form. The overall effect suggested that the interior decorator had sacrificed taste in a misguided pursuit of grandeur. Lina sniffed to herself. If she ever got her own castle, she was going to make sure there was enough in the decorating budget to be tastefully opulent.

The room was not all that large, and Lina finished her inspection in just a few minutes. She let her spell dissipate, mercifully plunging the room back into semi-gloom, which made the garishness of the decor much less noticeable, and sat down next to Gourry on the bench. He refused to meet her eye, and she was forcefully reminded of his odd behavior earlier.

"You knew, didn't you?" she asked abruptly.

"Knew what?"

"What was going on in there." Lina jerked her head at the door leading to Deremar's bed chamber.

"Yeah," he mumbled, without meeting her eyes.

Lina was struck again at how oddly he was acting. Almost like he was preoccupied with something. Considering how difficult it was at times to get things into his thick skull, Lina sometimes wondered if anything remotely resembling thought went on behind those crystal blue eyes. Gourry's typical easy-going nature seemed to enhance the impression that he was missing some of his faculties. Lina knew that Gourry wasn't an idiot, but his ability to quickly analyze a situation still caught her off guard on those rare occasions. Her reflections were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of an exhalation, exactly like what she had heard before. Only this time, she recognized the source. It wasn't somebody or something trying to sneak up on Deremar. It was Gourry.

Lina turned her head just slightly so she could see Gourry without being obvious that she was looking at him. He was sitting like he normally did, with his legs stretched out in front of him, and his arms crossed over his chest. There was a slight difference, though. Usually, Gourry seemed relaxed, but also alert and aware, ready to spring to action in a heartbeat, should the situation require it. But there was nothing relaxed about his pose this evening. His whole body was tense, and now that she was listening for it, his breathing seemed to be tightly controlled: a deep inhalation, held for a brief moment, followed by a slow exhalation and a brief pause before the cycle repeated.

As Lina sat listening to Gourry breathe, she started to feel tense herself. The feeling started in the center of her chest and reached down through the center of her abdomen to her loins. Strangely enough, though, the feeling was not unpleasant. Instead, it was accompanied by a strong sense of anticipation. Lina felt her senses expand. Gourry's breathing was not louder, but it seemed to demand something from her. She felt Gourry sitting next to her, but not because they were touching. She felt the heat coming off of him. And she noticed a scent she was unfamiliar with. It was spice and leather and sweat, slightly acrid, but definitely male. Definitely Gourry. Definitely _arousing_. Lina found herself assessing Gourry differently than she ever had allowed herself before: not as a jellyfish sidekick, not as a big-brother type, not even as a sweet guy she sometimes thought she had a crush on, but as a man, a heart-stopping, drool-inducing specimen. She realized that she was crossing her legs, pressing them together against the tight feeling there, and her breath was starting to come faster.

Abruptly, Lina stood up, scrubbing her clenched fists against her thighs. "Stop," she whispered, but it came out too soft. "Please, stop," she repeated, a bit louder.

Gourry jerked as if she had splashed him with cold water. "Stop what?" His tone was low, but his blue eyes were very clear and bright, and they bored into her. 

Lina felt her heart tighten again as she stood under his gaze. Unconsciously, she crossed her arms over her chest. Was she really about to ask him to stop breathing like that? Just imagining the words in her mind made her realize how inane they sounded. And even if she did ask, he'd probably be confused and ask for an explanation.

"Stop what," Gourry repeated a bit louder when she didn't answer.

"Never mind," Lina pasted a façade of indifference on her face, while she scrambled for something that would sound plausible. "I was just thinking about something, and I must have said it aloud." She turned and started pacing the room again before he could answer, so she didn't see the look of flat disbelief on Gourry's face.

/Damn that Deremar, anyways/ Lina thought to herself in annoyance. It was his fault for hiring them for a mind-numbingly boring job, and then entertaining himself while they had to sit out here in this utterly tasteless room. And why did the image of him and the blonde keep coming to mind? It wasn't like her to obsess over what other people did in private . . . unless it involved magic or money. 

Lina knew exactly what was going on in Deremar's chambers. It was difficult grow up in a normal village without encountering couples who had slipped into a barn for a quick fling, and the village boys started experimenting with the young girls as soon as they showed signs of developing. It was everywhere. Lina just ignored it as best she could. Somehow she had escaped the attentions of the boys who wanted to play "I'll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours," a game that usually involved very little showing, and a whole lot of doing. She wanted to believe that she had been too smart to fall for their tricks and antics, but a voice inside whispered that they just didn't try that hard because she was a skinny flat-chested unattractive runt. Lina stamped down hard on that particular train of thought, but that opened the door for the image of Deremar and the blonde to come rushing back in. Only this time, Deremar was starting to look more like Gourry. No, it wasn't that she was unaware of sex. She knew how it worked, and she had been vaguely disgusted by the whole process, and slightly disdainful of the girls who cried miserably after their first experience, and then kept going back for more. But now, for the first time, she found herself wondering if maybe she had been missing something.

Lina kept pacing back and forth, her thoughts whirling chaotically. If she happened to look over at Gourry, in spite of herself she ended up thinking about the last time she had seen him with his shirt off, or that time he had burst out of his drag outfit in Sandoria. If he happened to return her glance, she felt it lance through her body, making her yearn for something she couldn't quite name. The feeling was seductive, like a drug, or the promise of magic. If she tried to distract herself from Gourry, she ended up thinking about Deremar and the blonde. There was something about a blonde that was just at the edge of her awareness, something significant, but she couldn't seem to pin it down. Every time she got close to figuring it out, she would remember exactly what the blonde was doing. And how much Deremar seemed to be enjoying it. (Would Gourry enjoy it? And why would she think such a thing?) And who was that blonde?

No clear answers came to her as she paced back and forth. She was deep within her mind, with almost no awareness of what was going on around her, so much so that she was surprised to realize that Gourry was standing in front of her with both hands on her shoulders, calling her name. 

"What?" she responded dully.

"I _said_," Gourry flexed his fingers on her shoulders for emphasis, "that you should get some sleep." He gestured with his head towards the bench. "I'll keep watch for a while."

Lina realized that her legs were aching and her head was throbbing. And she felt decidedly askew, as if the world had tilted at an angle, but left her behind. Or maybe she was tilted. Lina nodded, and allowed Gourry to lead her towards the bench, where she curled up and closed her eyes, half in relief, half in trepidation about what she would see. It felt good to be off of her feet, but she had been tensed up for so long that she couldn't force herself to relax.

She heard Gourry move to sit next to her, and she soon felt his fingers moving soothingly in her hair. "Mmm . . ." Lina murmured appreciatively. After a moment she lifted her head and pillowed it on Gourry's leg. His fingers continued to stroke through her hair, and she felt the tension melt away with each gentle tug on her hair. 

******************

Gourry continued to stroke Lina's hair until her breathing eased into the steady pattern of sleep. This was turning out to be one of the strangest merc jobs they had ever taken. It had started off simply enough, just guard duty. Gourry kept his senses alert, just in case, but he really wasn't too concerned, especially since the bench he had chosen was facing the only door into the antechamber. Because he was alert, however, he had heard the sounds of activity in Deremar's room. The occasional giggle and the more frequent moans told him quite clearly exactly what kind of activity was going on in there. It was just their luck that they ended up guarding a randy old goat. Gourry grit his teeth and tried not to listen. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd been in this kind of situation, after all. It didn't make it any more enjoyable, however. To make matters worse, the sounds of lustful activity in the next room awakened certain impulses that he had been restraining for quite some time. Probably too long, judging from the force of his reaction. Gourry found himself cursing the fact that Lina seemed to have placed him firmly into the "big-brother" category, although it was probably his own fault for treating her like a little girl when they had first met.

Then, she had stood up. And stretched. The way she arched her body made him very aware of the fact that although she was tiny, she was undeniably a woman. The woman he had pledged to protect. The woman he wanted desperately to make his own. 

Her attack caught him completely off-guard. At first he thought she was attacking him, like she had realized that he was imagining doing all sorts of very un-chaste and un-brother-like things with her. It took him a while to realize that she had mistaken his sigh for someone else, but it seemed easier to go along with her than to explain that she had heard him. At least, it was easier until she asked him to check on Deremar. It was bad enough having to listen to them. He couldn't figure out how to get out of actually seeing them doing what he heard them doing. And of course, Lina wasn't content with him checking, she had to see for herself. He had almost just picked her up and carried her away from the door, for her own good of course. But he was pretty sure she would have made a huge racket, and in his current mood, he just didn't feel up to one of Lina's temper tantrums.

Lina's reaction also caught him completely off-guard. She was usually so uptight about privacy and kissing and things of that nature that he honestly expected her to go ballistic. Not to just blush, and then come sit down next to him as if it were the most natural thing in the world to catch two people in the middle of hot, sweaty sex, no big deal. He started wondering how much she actually knew, which kicked his imagination into overdrive. He could feel her sitting so close to him, her warmth, her scent. Gourry yearned to take her into his arms and make his thoughts real. Two things held him back: most importantly, the fear of pushing her away forever, but also to a much lesser degree, the fact that they were supposed to be doing a job.

And then she had asked him to stop. It was as if she had dropped a bucket of ice water on his head. Again, his first thought was that she could somehow read his mind, but this time she wasn't attacking, she was defending. Something had scared her, although she tried to deny it with some feeble excuse. He watched her pace back and forth like a caged animal, retreating deep into herself so that she was hardly aware of her surroundings, unaware of the occasional snarls or whimpers that she let out. It scared him to watch her go someplace so far away from him. It scared him that she was obviously tortured by something and he didn't know how to help her. 

Finally, he couldn't take watching her anymore. It was pretty clear to him that she was wearing herself out, but she showed no signs of stopping, or even of slowing, so he had forced her to stop, encouraged her to rest, and now he sat here, with her head on his lap and his hand in her hair, listening to the regular rhythm of her breathing.

Gourry allowed his eyes to close as he drifted halfway between sleep and wakefulness.

His eyes snapped open some time later. The room had lightened from semi-gloom to pre-dawn, although it wasn't the change in the lighting that had awakened him. It was the feel of a gentle caress running up the inside of his leg from his knee to midway up his inner thigh. Gourry wasn't sure if he was really awake, or if he was just dreaming. His eyes told him that Lina's head was still resting on his leg, and that it was her hand lazily moving back and forth. But his brain refused to accept the information his eyes were sending. For a moment he hesitated, wavering between closing his eyes and enjoying the dream, and pinching himself to see if he was awake. While he debated, the caress continued, if anything it grew bolder, moving higher up his leg.

Gourry sighed. "Lina?" He asked softly.

"Hmm?" She shifted her stroke from a straight back-and-forth motion to making lazy little circles.

Gourry suppressed the urge to groan. If this was a dream, he didn't want to wake up. But if it wasn't a dream . . . His hand tangled in her thick red hair, moving it out of her face so that he could see her. Her eyes were closed, but her lips were quirked in a tiny little smile. And her hand continued to advance. This time, he couldn't stop the groan from escaping.

Lina lifted her head, and he could see the smug self-satisfied look she wore. He could see her eyes, which were usually hard and closed to him, moist and glassy looking, slightly unfocussed, but very aware. "Gourry?" Her voice was low and husky.

She only spoke his name, nothing else, but he heard the invitation. He felt it in her gaze, which went straight through him and evoked a very basic response, one that redirected the blood supply away from his head to other portions of his anatomy. /I must be dreaming./

"Is it a good dream or a bad dream?" Lina asked quietly.

Her question convinced him it must be a dream. Otherwise, how would she know what he was thinking? "The best," he sighed.

Lina didn't respond. She just laid her head back down on his leg and continued moving her hand up and down his inner thigh. Then after a while, she whispered his name. "Gourry?"

"Hmm?"

"I promise you, this isn't a dream."

Her response nagged at him for some reason. If it wasn't a dream, there was something that he was supposed to be doing right now. He opened his eyes and looked around, and then he realized what it was that was bothering him. "If this isn't a dream," he said softly as he placed his hand over hers, "then you should stop doing that."

"Why?" She flipped her hand over so that she was clasping his hand.

"Because . . ." He looked out the window and saw the sky changing from pale gray to the blue of early morning. "Because Deremar's staff is going to be in here soon."

Lina sighed and sat up. While he watched, her entire demeanor shifted from being lazily sultry to closed and business-like. Gourry felt cold in the pit of his stomach, and tried not to echo her sigh. Then she stood up, and clasping her hands behind her head, she arched her back, leaning first to one side and then the other. Gourry felt his breath catch in the back of his throat. He wanted to grasp her with both arms and crush her to him, kissing her soundly, but instead he whispered, "Don't do that."

"Do what?" Lina asked in a normal tone of voice, pausing in mid-stretch.

"That," he reached out and pulled her arms down, gently tugging her onto his lap. "It makes me crazy for you," he whispered into her ear.

Lina turned her head so she could whisper back into his ear, "I'll keep that in mind." With a smile, she stood up. "I hope they show up soon," she announced. "I'm starving!"

******************

Lina paced the room a few times, trying to work out the kinks from falling asleep on a stone bench. She trusted Gourry, even if he had been half asleep, but just to be sure, she peeked in on Deremar. He and his blonde paramour were sprawled out on the bed, snoring in counterpoint to each other, and now that she got a clear view of the blonde's face, she remembered where she had seen her before. Considering how much of a turmoil she had been in when she fell asleep, she was surprisingly happy now. In fact, she was verging on giddy, although she was doing her best to hide it. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gourry shift about, as if his pants were too tight, then he stood up and went to stand by the window. Lina suppressed a grin. 

She had awoken to find her head still on Gourry's lap. His hand resting on her shoulder, and one of her hands was resting on his knee. She had been about to go back to sleep when she heard him murmur her name. At first she thought he had noticed that she was awake, but then she realized that his breathing was still and regular, which indicated that he was asleep. The way he had said her name tugged at her heart in a way that surprised her, but also made several pieces of the puzzle fall together: how comfortable and safe she felt being so close to him, how much she counted on him as a constant presence in her life, and how much she had been a sea of raging hormones the previous night all because of the way he had been breathing. With the clarity that often comes after an emotional storm and a night of sleep deprivation, she realized exactly what it was that she felt for the big blond swordsman. And she wondered if maybe, just maybe, he might feel the same. She had started stroking her fingers absently along his leg, enjoying the closeness and treasuring the realizations the morning had brought. Of course, once she realized the effect her fingers were having on him, bringing on a repeat performance of the previous night's breathing exercises, her movements had become a great deal more deliberate.

Lina heard the sound of keys rattling in a lock, and she turned expectantly toward the door. "Finally," she announced with a theatrical sigh. Gourry turned away from the window and leaned against the wall. "Remember," she reminded him, "let _me_ do all the talking!"

Gourry shrugged, and then the door to the room opened, and Deremar's steward, a greasy looking man with lank brown hair entered the room. "Any problems?" He asked in a business-like tone of voice.

"See for yourself." Lina gestured towards the door leading to Deremar's chamber.

The steward smirked at Lina, and sauntered over to waken his master. He opened the door just wide enough to squeeze through and then closed the door firmly behind him. After a few moments, the steward emerged, holding a small sack that jingled as he walked.

Before he could give the money to Lina, she held up her hand. "I have to warn you," she stated calmly, "that our contract was only to protect Deremar."

"Yes," the steward replied, "and that's what I'm paying you for. Twenty gold coins, as we agreed."

Lina wagged her finger at him. "Our contract stated nothing about protecting any of Deremar's lady-companions. That will double our price. You owe us forty gold coins."

"Forty?" The steward sneered at Lina. "Do you realize who you are dealing with?"

Lina extended herself to her full height, a move she wished was more impressive. "Forty." She repeated calmly. "Unless Deremar doesn't care that everyone knows what he's doing with his sister's daughter in the wee hours of the night."

The sneer evaporated off of the steward's face, and he started to look a little green.

"You wouldn't dare!" He declared. He sounded decidedly unsure of himself, however.

Lina arched one eyebrow and stared him down. 

The steward started to sweat. Finally, he broke. "Okay, okay, forty." With a sick expression, he pulled a small key out of his doublet and unlocked a small box concealed under one of the tasteless sea-creature statues. 

Lina carefully counted out the gold coins he gave her, biting a couple of them to test their authenticity. Once she was content, she bundled up the coins and dropped them into a hidden compartment in her cloak. "It was a pleasure doing business with you," she said in her "little girl" voice as she smiled innocently at the steward. "Gourry and I will see ourselves out." Without a backward glance, and without waiting to see if Gourry was following her, Lina sauntered insolently out of the room.

Gourry caught up with her at the head of the stairs leading into the main hall. Lina flashed him a victory sign.

"Wasn't that a little harsh?" Gourry's tone was stern, but his eyes were dancing.

Lina turned on him. "How many times have I told you that information is valuable? We doubled our take with minimal effort. Now, let's go eat, I'm starving!"

******************

One rather large meal later, Lina leaned back in her chair and sighed with contentment. "I feel almost human again . . . Now all I need is a bath and some sleep."

Gourry nodded, as he looked over the remains of their breakfast. He pushed a stack of dishes to the side so he could see Lina better. "You want me to go see about getting us rooms?"

"No," Lina shook her head. "I'll take care of it." She stood up and tossed a handful of coins on the table to cover their meal.

Gourry twirled a bamboo skewer through his fingers and checked out the room while waiting for Lina to return. The room was large, but it looked like it had seen hard use. The floor was covered with fresh rushes and most of the tables were rough-hewn boards placed over trestles. In fact, he and Lina had claimed one of the few tables that looked more permanent, and also had chairs instead of simple benches. Their table was close to a raised wooden dais. Gourry figured that the room served several functions, ranging from meeting hall to banquet hall, and based on the dais, probably also local court. There was a small stack of kegs in one corner, right next to a short bar. 

What was taking Lina so long? Like Lina, he also wanted a bath and some sleep, and judging from the deep creases in his shirt, he'd need to do some laundry sooner rather than later. At least they wouldn't need to take on another merc job any time soon. Just to pass the time, he ordered a pint of ale. The waitress gave him an odd look, but didn't say anything.

He had finished off half his glass when Lina finally showed up. "What took so long?"

Lina growled and flung herself into her chair. "There's only one room," she spat out through clenched teeth.

"So, it's not like we've never shared a room before," he pointed out calmly. At least he hoped he said it calmly. The thought of sharing a room with her now, after having her so close to him this morning, meant that there were all kinds of possibilities, assuming of course, that he could weather her current mood.

"I _know_ that, Jellyfish, that's not the point." She leaned on the table, burying her face in her hands a moment. Then she looked up. "The room's currently occupied."

Oh. Gourry's shoulders slumped. The thought of slogging over to the next village right now made him feel twice as tired.

"But," Lina held up her hand, "there is a room we can use . . . at least until this evening when they'll need it for business again."

"They?" Gourry asked. Then he noticed that Lina was blushing furiously and avoiding his eyes. Oh. It figured. This town was so small, they were lucky there were any rooms for them at all. Considering all the other functions the common room served, he wasn't surprised that the local whore worked here as well. "Well, that's better than nothing isn't it?"

Lina sighed. "Yeah, it's better than nothing, but it's less than ideal. It means that we have no place to stay tonight." Then she brightened. "The good news is, though, that we get the room for free, but we still have to pay for them to lug up the bath cask and the hot water."

"They're actually going to bring up hot water?"

"Yeah. I had to pay extra for it, but the thought of a cold bath on top of having to clear out early was just too much." Lina stood up. "I'm going up. It's the first door at the top of the stairs."

Gourry nodded. "I'll be up once I finish this." He held up his tankard.

Lina wrinkled her nose. "How you can drink that stuff this early in the day is beyond me." Then she turned and walked out of the common room.

Gourry watched her go up the stairs. He wondered what was really bothering her. He didn't doubt that she was annoyed about the room. It certainly was less than ideal. On the other hand, she seemed pretty pleased about getting it for free. He swigged the rest of his ale while he glanced about the room. His eyes narrowed slightly when he noticed Deremar's greasy steward slink in. He was obviously trying to look casual as he sauntered over to the bar, where the sole waitress sat. Once there, he started talking to her urgently in an undertone. Gourry stood up, pushing back his chair noisily, then walked over and clapped the man on the shoulder.

Deremar's steward flinched in panic before he pasted an oily smile onto his face. "Ah, I was just asking Anika here if she knew where you and the lovely Miss Inverse were."

"Well, I suppose this is your lucky day, then," Gourry replied casually.

"Yes," the other man replied quickly, his eyes darting about nervously. "You see, Lord Deremar was well-pleased with your services this night past, and he would like to discuss more permanent arrangements."

Gourry grunted. He thought that it was much more likely that Deremar wanted his money back. "You'll have to give Deremar our apologies," he said shortly. "We're not for hire right now." 

As he turned and headed up the stairs, he caught the nasty look that flitted across the steward's face. He rubbed his hand against his pant leg, trying to get rid of the greasy feeling he had from touching the steward.

When he got up to the room, Lina was busy overseeing the placement of the bath cask and the two maids who were bringing up water through the window. She seemed to have things under control, so he sank into one of the chairs until she was finished. The room they were staying in could only be described as sumptuous. It was remarkably tasteful for a room devoted to whoring. The walls were covered with peacock blue damask that matched the overstuffed chairs facing the fireplace. The pale wood floor had been polished to a sheen and there were small throw rugs scattered about. Of course, the thing that demanded the most attention in the room was the bed. It was a giant four-poster bed with an emerald green velvet canopy and matching curtains. It was covered with small cushions that matched the walls in color. And it looked incredibly comfortable and welcoming. Somebody had obviously spent a great deal of money on this room, quite the contrast to the typical whore's room that reeked of stale sex and was tastelessly decorated, if at all.

Gourry leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trusting Lina to take care of things. Finally, he heard the click of the door closing. He opened his eyes to see Lina leaning against the door to the room. Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be concentrating. Then she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Deremar's steward was asking about us."

"I know," she replied with a sigh. "I saw him sniffing around the edges of the common room when I went to go see about a room."

"You think Deremar wants his money back?"

Lina shrugged. "Maybe. It's more likely that he doesn't want to take the chance that we'll talk about his nighttime activities. That could harm him considerably more than the loss of an extra twenty gold." She walked over to the window, closed her eyes and concentrated again.

"You worried?"

"Nah, not really." Lina shrugged again. "If he had access to magic, he wouldn't have hired us yesterday." She sat down on the windowsill. "Still, it doesn't hurt to take simple precautions. I don't think he'll try anything today, but we might want to try sneaking out tonight." Then Lina grinned with a feral look. "If that fails, we'll take him out and all his treasure will be mine!"

Gourry had no reply for that. He closed his eyes again and listened to Lina move about the room. When he heard the swish of water, he remembered about the bath. He didn't open his eyes again, though, until he sensed Lina standing in front of him. "What?"

Lina looked over him critically. "Why don't you bathe first?" He noticed that she had taken off her cloak, and left it laying in a rumpled heap on the floor next to a low stool and a wooden wash basin.

Gourry reluctantly pulled himself up from the comfort of the chair and started taking off his armor, inspecting each piece as he did so, mostly out of habit. Lina sat down on the stool near her cloak and started going through all the hidden pockets it contained. She glanced over at him. "Toss me your clothes before you get in the tub, and I'll wash 'em."

"Thanks. I was just thinking at breakfast that we should do laundry soon." He undressed and tossed his clothes in her general direction before he eased himself into the tub, facing away from her. The hot water felt so good that he found himself just wanting to soak for a while. He could hear Lina scrubbing clothes against the washboard. She seemed to be throwing a lot of energy into it, but she was also quietly humming a little tune. After a bit, he heard her stand up, and he turned so he could see what she was doing. She had finished washing his clothes and was in the process of hanging them up on the valet to dry. 

As he turned back, he noticed the bath supplies sitting on a stool next to the tub. There was the standard array of small washing cloths, soap, and containers with shampoo. What caught his attention, however, was a blue long-handled brush. He had never seen anything like it before, so he picked it up to examine it more closely. The bristles were closely packed, a lot like a grooming brush for a horse, but they weren't quite as stiff. His brow furrowed for a moment, then he smiled as an idea occurred to him. He picked up the soap, and worked up a generous lather onto the bristles. Then he reached over his shoulder and started scrubbing his back. He whistled through his teeth in pleasure. If there was one part of the body that was hard to wash, it was the back. This brush made it easy, and it also felt really good.

"What's that?" Lina asked, looking up from the clothes she was washing.

"Dunno," Gourry replied. "It was with the other bath things, so I guess it's for washing." He continued scrubbing at his back. "Works good on backs, though."

He heard her sniff. "And here I was going to offer to do your back once I finished with the clothes. Guess you won't need any help now." She wrung the water out of her spare leggings and then shook them out.

Gourry paused in mid-stroke. She was going to offer to do his back? That was a new one. Usually Lina wouldn't come anywhere near him while he was taking a bath. He struggled to come up the right reply. "Well, there's a spot right between my shoulder blades that I can't reach properly," he suggested, looking over his shoulder.

"Oh, really?" Lina looked at him from under raised eyebrows.

"Really, see?" Gourry made a show of being able to reach the area below his shoulder blades and above, but not between, comically exaggerating his difficulties.

Lina started to laugh. "In that case, I guess I can still offer to help. We wouldn't want that part of your back to feel neglected, would we?" He heard her drag the stool over to the tub. "Hand me a washcloth," she ordered.

"Yes'm." Gourry leaned forward a bit, his hands gripping the sides of the tub as Lina dipped the washcloth into the water behind him. Time seemed to slow down as he heard the sound of soap scraping against the cloth, the sound of water dripping from the cloth, the sound of Lina's slow breathing, very close to him. After an eternity, he felt her bring the cloth up to his back. As she scrubbed, he felt water drip down his back. He closed his eyes in pleasure. "Better than the brush," he murmured. 

******************

Lina stared at the broad expanse of Gourry's back, wondering if she was sure about this. The few times in the past when they'd had to share a room and were really in need of a bath, she'd usually sit on the other side of the bed, staring at the wall. Of course, she always made Gourry leave the room when she took hers. The situation was slightly different this time, though, for several reasons. First of all, they usually weren't magically locked in. Locking the doors and windows like that probably wasn't necessary, but was still a sensible precaution. And then, there was the fact that she had discovered a new power that she had over Gourry, and Lina Inverse had never been one to shy away from trying out new abilities. Just remembering the way he had whispered in her ear, how he had said that the simple act of her stretching made him crazy for her, made chills run up and down her spine. She knew that her actions were not without risk. Gourry had demonstrated that he could influence her just as much. But Lina had also never backed down from a challenge. 

Not that she was doing this purely because she felt challenged, or for the thrill. She was also doing it because she knew in her heart that she and Gourry could continue to dance around each other, the situation, and their feelings for each other. Or they could cut to the chase, get everything out in the open, deal with it, and move on.

Oh, but she had power over him! Gourry's head was hanging down, and an occasional sigh escaped his lips. Lina let the washcloth fall into the water, and then lathered her hands with the soap. She spread the suds over his back, and then started to massage his shoulders, working her fingers through the knots up the column of his neck and down along his arms. Then, feeling more than a bit mischievous, she ran her hands over his chest, just under his collarbone. He initially stiffened, but once he relaxed again, she leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "Hand me the shampoo and I'll wash your hair, too." She bit her lip to prevent herself from laughing in his ear as she watched his reaction.

His shoulders slumped down, and he sighed resignedly before handing her the shampoo. When she reached out her hand to take it, he burst into action, dropping the shampoo to grab her arm. Before Lina could react, he hauled her into the tub so that she was cradled in his arms. Water sloshed over the sides of the tub, spilling onto the floor.

"Gourry!" Lina screeched as she struggled to free herself. "Look at me! Now I'm all wet!"

"Hmm, it appears that way, doesn't it?" He seemed impervious to her struggles.

Lina allowed herself to go limp. Two could play at this game. If he was going to use his strength against her, she'd use hers against him. But before she could gather her concentration, Gourry let go of her, and she was floundering for support. After a great deal of splashing and grasping, she finally pulled herself upright so that she was kneeling, straddling Gourry's legs. She glared at him. "I'm gonna get you for that," she promised from between clenched teeth.

Gourry smiled back at her threat, his blue eyes dancing. "That's what you get for teasing me."

"Teasing you? Who says I was teasing you?" Lina tried hard to maintain a pose of righteous indignation, but she found it increasingly difficult as his eyes stopped dancing and started staring at her lips.

"I did," he replied, but it was obvious that he wasn't really paying attention to what he said. He lifted his hand and stroked down the side of her cheek, then ran his thumb over her lips. "You've driven me . . ."

Lina forgot that she was sitting fully clothed in a tub full of water. She forgot that she was straddling Gourry, who was fully unclothed. She forgot everything under his intense gaze, everything except for his last words. "I've driven you?"

He shuddered. "You've driven me to places I've never been before. Through the dens of bandits and thieves, to the margin of terror . . ." He trailed off.

Lina didn't know how to respond. "I've . . ."

Gourry pulled her closer to him. "You've driven me to the edge of control," he growled just before he claimed her lips.

Despite the intensity of his gaze, and the accusations of his words, his kiss started out gentle, just brushing his lips against hers. Then his lips parted and he brought his tongue in to explore her mouth. Lina melted under him, as his kiss seemed to reach into the center of her being. It demanded a response, and as she felt heat flood through her, she found herself responding enthusiastically. Gourry began to kiss along the edge of her jaw and down her neck as she pressed herself close to him and gripped his legs with her thighs. One of her hands tangled in his hair while the other ran up and down his spine.

"It's my turn," Gourry whispered against her neck. Then he pulled back, although he kept his hands on her shoulders. He seemed to restrain himself with an effort of will, but he was breathing heavily.

"Your turn for what?" Lina tried not to sound breathless, but she was breathing just as heavily as he was. She felt incredibly tense, as if she had summoned a great deal of magical energy, but hadn't yet focused it into the channels of a spell.

"To drive you to the edge." His eyes held hers as one of his hands left her shoulders and ran down her side, just barely sweeping by the swell of her breast, down to her hip.

Lina felt her breath hitch in the back of her throat. This is what she wanted. She wanted to be swept off of her feet, like the princess in the storybook. In this particular matter, she didn't want to be the one calling all the shots, designing the strategy, choosing the paths, driving them on to meet whatever destiny had in store for them. She nodded. "It's your turn," she whispered.

Gourry's eyes widened. "Are you sure?" His voice was low and intense, and it made the heat that had flooded through her flare into an inferno.

"I'm sure," she sighed as he brought his hand back up along her side in a long slow caress. "Besides, you've already driven me to the edge of control." 

"In that case," Gourry drawled, "why don't you wash my hair for me."

Lina started to sputter in indignation, but he continued speaking, cutting her off. "After that, I'll scrub your back. But then we'll have to get out of the water. I don't want to get all pruney. Besides, the water's getting cold."

As Gourry turned around so that his back was once more before her, Lina tried not to sigh. She found it highly incongruous that here she was, sitting in a tub with Gourry, washing his hair, while fully dressed. She picked up the bottle of shampoo floating in the tub and squeezed a generous portion out onto her hands. Then, ignoring the way her wet clothes clung and stuck to her in odd places, Lina started working the shampoo through his long blond hair. 

After squeezing shampoo from the bottle for the third time, a thought occurred to Lina. "Why do you keep your hair so long? It's even longer than mine, and I thought I had long hair."

Gourry glanced at her over his shoulder. "Would you believe it's the source of my strength?"

Lina burst out laughing. "No, and are you implying that I'm Delilah?"

"Who?"

"Never mind. Lean back, I'm going to rinse." Lina picked up the small wooden bucket that had been holding the bath supplies and dunked it under the water, then poured it carefully over Gourry's hair to rinse out the shampoo. "Tell me something I will believe."

"Well," Gourry shrugged. "There's not really one reason. I used to have really short hair, but once I started working as a merc, I kept forgetting to get it cut."

"Is that all?" Lina thought there might be more, but she wasn't sure why.

"If you have long hair," Gourry replied after a moment, "you always have a weapon."

"Come on." Lina tugged at his hair in disbelief. "I thought you were going to tell me something I would believe."

"I'm serious Lina. D'you know why assassins often have long hair? A thin rope of hair kills just as effectively as a garrote. And it's a lot easier to conceal."

Lina sensed there was something there that he wasn't telling her. Under normal circumstances, her curiosity would have been driving her mad. But these were hardly normal circumstances, and she filed the information away for a later date. "Well, weapon or no, it's clean." She dropped the bucket back onto the stool.

"Good," Gourry announced as he turned around. "Now, let's get you out of those wet clothes before you catch cold."

For about half a second, Lina considered retorting that it was his fault she was soaked to the bone. Then she looked at his expression. Playtime was definitely over. "I thought you'd never ask," she murmured as the blaze in his eyes made her heart clench, and the tense feeling between her legs returned in full force.

******************

Author's notes: Thanks to Pogo for beta reading! This story has been rolling around in my imagination since early May. It's kind of taken on a life of it's own, however. 


	2. Slipping the Noose

Gourry ran his finger along the line of buttons down the front of her shirt, savoring the moment, and the knowledge that he was about to undress Lina Inverse, and that she was a willing partner in this act.  He wanted to release his tight control and rip her clothes off.  But he also wanted to make the moment last longer, stretch it out.  He wanted to tease her and drive her beyond the edge of control.  And those desires made it even harder to restrain himself.  He was afraid that if he didn't go slowly enough, he would scare her, or even worse, hurt her with his need.  So he forced himself to go slow.

He crooked his finger underneath the yellow band she wore around her chest and tugged lightly on it.  "Why do you wear this, Lina?"  He had always wondered.  

Lina blushed and avoided his eyes.  "It keeps me in place," she mumbled half under her breath.

Gourry tried to figure out what she meant, but unfortunately, large supplies of blood were being diverted to other parts of his anatomy, which made cohesive thought rather difficult.  His puzzled expression must have shown on his face because Lina suddenly heaved a long-suffering sigh.  "Look, I know I'm small, but I'm pretty active, and they do bounce, and it can be pretty painful."  Her words were defensive and came out in a rush.  "This band helps."

Gourry ran his fingers along the edge, around to the back.  "It looks uncomfortable," he announced, as he found the knot that held the band together.  Quickly, his dexterous fingers untied the knot and dropped the band over the edge of the tub.  "And, it makes you look a lot smaller than you really are."

A great deal of tension eased out of her body at his words.  "Do you really think so?"

There was something in her tone that made him drag his gaze away from her chest area and look her in the eyes.  He was a bit shocked at how vulnerable she looked, like a scared little girl.  "Hmm."  He brushed his hand against her cheek, wiping away a bit of moisture.  "Definitely."

An amazing thing happened then.  The vulnerable and scared expression melted away, along with all her barriers.  Suddenly Lina let down all of her defenses, exposing her true inner-self to him.  Gourry could see in her eyes no pretense, no shields, just trust and something that went quite a bit deeper; something that peeled his own barriers aside and reached deep within his own soul.  It was too much.  It was too raw.  Neither of them could sustain the link.  Lina broke it off first, smiling at him as her eyes drifted shut.  

Still reeling with the intimacy of the look they had exchanged, Gourry almost felt that no physical touch would come even close to matching it.  Almost, but not quite.  He turned his attention back to her tunic, and starting at her neckline, he made his way down, unfastening each button he came across.  With that task completed, he pushed it off of her shoulders, only to find that she was wearing something else ‑ a yellow tank-top ‑ underneath.  "How many layers do you have on, anyways?" he asked in exasperation.

While he plucked at the wet yellow top that clung to her like a second skin, and tried to figure out how to get it off of her, Lina opened her eyes.  "You'll have to take them all off to find out," she challenged with an arch look.

Gourry realized pretty fast that he wouldn't be able to get the top over her head, because it was more in the nature of a bathing suit than a shirt.  He had never realized that the yellow part of her pants that looked suspiciously like underwear was actually part of a top.  He had limited success bringing the shoulder straps down over her arms.  Getting her arms out of the straps proved to be a major challenge, however.  The soaked fabric seemed determined to stick to her skin wherever possible.  Gourry finally growled in disgust, and with one deft twist of his hands, he ripped the shirt right down the middle.  Lina had nothing underneath, and Gourry greedily lowered his face to her collarbone, while one hand palmed her breast and the other ran down her spine and pulled her close.

"Gourry!"  Lina half-screeched under his assault.  "That was my last good undershirt!"

"Mmm," Gourry mumbled as his mouth worked across her skin, leaving wet kisses and little nips in its path.  "I'll buy you a new shirt."

He heard her intake of breath, but before she had a chance to respond, his mouth found her other breast, and his tongue found her nipple.  Whatever she was going to say came out as a gasp.  She arched her back, which had the side effect of pushing her hips closer to him so that his erection was wedged up against her body.  Gourry teetered for a brief moment as brain and body fought for dominance.  Body won, and all thoughts of gentle and slow seduction were banished from his brain as her leggings and panties met the same fate as her yellow top.  At last she was naked before him, sooner than he had imagined possible.  He pressed her body against his, reveling in the electric feel of her skin against his, while he ravaged her neck and shoulders with his lips and tongue.  Her hands were tangled in his hair, holding his head to her.  In between moans, she urged him on in a low throaty voice, "Don't stop . . . oh gods, don't stop . . ."

Stop?  He wasn't capable of stopping.  He was barely capable of thought.  His senses were consumed by the tiny woman he held and the overwhelming force of his need.  Without pausing to consider the logistics of the situation, he stood up, dragging her up with him.  Lina clenched her legs around him, and he moved his hands under her rear while he somehow stepped out of the tub.  He stopped kissing her long enough to maneuver them across the slippery wet floor to the huge bed that dominated the room.

With the one tiny part of his attention that was not consumed with Lina, Gourry thought that he managed the treacherous journey from tub to bed quite well.  Unfortunately, he thought this too soon.  Two steps away from the bed, Gourry's foot encountered the sodden remains of her leggings.  At that precise moment, Lina, who had taken advantage of her position to nuzzle at his shoulder and neck, whispered huskily in his ear, "You've made me crazy for you."

Gourry probably could have recovered from one event or the other.  The two in combination meant that he couldn't decide whether to keep his balance or listen to her words echo repeatedly through his brain.  The result was that both of them ended up landing very hard on the bed.

"Ooof," Lina grunted from the impact.  "Well, that's one way to get us here."  She struggled to free one of her arms that was pinned underneath Gourry's shoulder.

Gourry tried to find a place to put his hand so he could lever his body up.  No matter where he reached, though, he only seemed to encounter Lina's flesh, which was writhing against him in all sorts of interesting patterns.

"Get up, Gourry, your elbow is jamming into my gut," she muttered, no longer sounding amused.

"I'm . . . trying . . ." Gourry managed to reply, "Stop . . . stop moving around so much."

"Oh, for the love of . . ."  Lina stopped moving.  "Levitation!"

"Wha . . ." Gourry didn't get a chance to finish before he found himself floating gently up into the air.  It was a distinctly unpleasant feeling, and he started flailing wildly, trying to get a solid grip on something . . . anything . . .  "Lina!"  He couldn't quite keep the edge of panic out of his voice.

Lina rolled over to her side, sweeping aside a pile of pillows with her arm as she went, and with a wicked grin that gave him a split second of warning, she released the spell.  Gourry thumped abruptly down onto the bed for the second time in as many minutes.

While he attempted to recover the shreds of his dignity, not to mention his breath, Lina collapsed into a gale of giggles.  "If . . . only . . . if only . . ." she gasped out between laughs, "your . . . face . . ."  Then she gave up on trying to speak and curled over to her side, holding her stomach while she continued to chortle away.

Gourry rolled to his side and propped his head up on his hand, torn between indignation that she was laughing at his expense, and enjoying the sound of her laughter, as well as the sight of her naked body contorting with each fresh onslaught.  At least, it was mostly naked.  Now that they were actually out of the tub he noticed that in his rush to rip off her leggings, he had left a piece clinging around the bottom half of her left leg.  Somehow, seeing just that one scrap of cloth left on her made his desire return in full force.

Finally, she calmed down and turned to face him, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Please, don't ever do that to me again," he said plaintively as he reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face.

"Which 'that' do you mean?"  Her eyes were dancing with barely suppressed mirth.  "You mean offer to wash your back again?"  She moved in closer to him and started to explore his chest with her tongue.  "Whisper in your ear again?"  She asked softly, but throatily, in between kisses.  Then she lightly placed the tips of her fingers on his hip and slowly dragged her hand up his side.  "Or was it something else?"

Gourry didn't respond because he was busy holding his breath.  Lina was slowly and deliberately kissing a trail across his chest, a trail that led to his nipple.  The hand that she had so slowly dragged up his side was making lazy circles that moved her fingers closer to the other one.  The teasingly light touch of her fingers, the warm wetness of her kisses, and the anticipation of where she was heading had all of his nerve endings dancing.  He gasped when her finger just barely brushed against the side, the feeling like a shock, but much more pleasurable.  Then he moaned when her mouth covered his other nipple, and he felt her stroking it with her tongue.

If she kept this up, he was going to loose it again.  He was going to roll her onto her back and take her right then and there, and he knew, _he knew_ that she wasn't nearly as ready as he was.  He wanted her to be ready.  He wanted her to burn the way he was burning.  With a deep groan, he gently pushed her away.

"What?"  Lina looked up at him, her eyes bright with confusion.  And concern.  "Did I do it wrong?"

"Wrong?"  The word burst out from him.  There was no "wrong" in the feel of her hands on his bare skin.  There was no "wrong" in the warm satin touch of her mouth.  Gourry took a deep breath.  "Wrong?"  He repeated, "no, it wasn't wrong."

"Then what is it?"  She asked quietly.

He felt his heart clench.  How did he tell her?  How could he explain it?  "Do you have any idea," he asked, "how long I've wanted this?  How long I've wanted you?"  He didn't wait for a reply.  "I don't even know.  I can't remember a time when you weren't everything I think about.  I go to sleep seeing you in my mind.  I wake up and all I want is you."  The words came gushing out of him, and nothing could stop them, not even Lina's sudden intake of breath.  "Do you remember when we were in that crazy mansion, and Zel and Amelia got trussed up and thrown into a pool?  You threw yourself into my arms because there were slugs in the water.  I wanted you before that.  Do you remember when you took a hit for Sylphiel?  I wanted you before that, too.  When your hair turned white and we split up from Zel to go to Atlass City, I think I even wanted you then.  I would have followed you anywhere.  And when you said you were going to follow me until I gave you the Sword of Light, I knew I would never give it to you, as long as it kept you with me."  He closed his eyes and bit his lip to stop the flood of words.  It was too much, too raw.

"I . . . I didn't know," she said faintly, hesitantly.  "I mean . . . I thought . . . well, I knew . . . that you cared . . ."

"Cared?"  Gourry interrupted forcefully, his eyes flying open.  "_Cared_?  That's like saying the Sword of Light was a neat tool!  You think I swore to go on protecting you for the rest of my life because I _cared?  I'm in __love with you, Lina!"  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Gourry mentally kicked himself.  That was not, definitely not, the way he wanted to tell her._

"Well, you sure have a funny way of showing it sometimes," she returned with heat.  Then the force of her temper drained out of her and her eyes went wide.  "What did you just say?"

At least she wasn't rejecting him.  She seemed like she was surprised, and maybe a little . . . hopeful?

Gourry repeated himself, putting all the emotion that he could summon into the words.  "I said that I'm in love with you, Lina."  

******************

"I said that I'm in love with you, Lina."  

The words reverberated through her mind and brought chills to her spine.  She felt her eyes tear up as she realized that she had been waiting and hoping to hear him say them.  There was no way she could doubt the intensity of his feelings.  It was almost frightening how deeply he felt, and how deeply it touched her.  How had she gone this long without acknowledging the truth?  

It was true that she had known that he cared.  He had proclaimed himself her protector, after all, promised to follow her for the rest of her life.  When Hellmaster had taken him, she had realized then that she cared for him as well, in a different way than she cared for the others.  But when had she fallen in love with him?  It certainly didn't just suddenly happen yesterday.  No, that was when she had recognized the feeling.  She wasn't sure how she would have reacted to this knowledge a year ago, or even a day ago, but today, his declaration seemed to fill a missing spot within her.  Somehow, now, knowing the truth of his feelings made her feel complete.

She smiled at him and aimed a mock-punch at his shoulder.  "Took you long enough, Jellyfish!"  

Gourry easily blocked her with an open palm then wrapped his fingers gently around her fist.  "Now I'm sure that you're really Lina," he said with a smile that answered hers.

"What's that supposed to mean?"  She pulled her fist away with a huff.

Gourry shrugged one shoulder.  "Well, it's strange enough that you would offer to wash my back.  But everything else . . . I was beginning to wonder."

Lina knew he was teasing her.  And she couldn't resist teasing back.  "You're right, it isn't like me at all."  She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.  "I guess I shouldn't do too many unexpected things in one day," she sighed theatrically as she leaned forward to stand up.

Before she could even get her feet on the floor, he had pulled her back down and loomed over her.  "Oh, no you don't!  You think I'm going to let you get away now that I've finally caught you?"

Lina let out a happy little sigh.  "I love you, Gourry."  

He didn't answer, but he didn't need to.  She could see it in his eyes.  The happiness she saw there mirrored what she felt in her heart.  It wasn't just the knowledge of their feelings for each other.  It was also the fact that they could still joke around, that they still felt comfortable together, and that nothing had really changed.  Well, almost nothing.  

"Now, where were we?"  Lina asked, placing her hand on his chest and slowly dragging it down, past his ribs and over his abdomen.

He caught her hand in his before she could progress any further.  "About here, I think."  He lightly stroked her side, starting at her breast and moving down over her hip.  

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Author's notes:  There is more to this chapter, but it is not suitable for ff.net's guidelines, as it involves a fairly frank description of sexual situations.  If you're interested, you can email me, get the rest off my website, or off Switchboard (http:// switchboard . museshaven . com/), remove the spaces.  Although my original premise was getting Lina and Gourry together, there's still more of this story waiting to be told.

Thanks again to Pogo for Beta reading!


	3. Tapestry of the Past

Flam Gush 3 

Gourry held Lina as she drifted off to sleep.  Part of him wondered why he wasn't sleeping too.  The other part of him was too busy replaying recent events to think about anything else.  Somehow, a one-time merc job had accomplished something he had almost thought impossible, that Lina would ever see him as more than a sidekick big-brother type. 

He still wasn't convinced that it wasn't all a wild dream.  Making love to Lina had been beyond imagination.  The reality was that it should have hurt her.  Given the way she always went on about her "maidenly innocence," Gourry would have sworn on the Sword of Light that she was a virgin.  The fact that he hadn't seemed to hurt her at all kept niggling at him.  Of course, it was possible that Lina had just hidden the pain from him, but somehow, he didn't think so.  Which meant that he couldn't decide whether he should be grateful that she hadn't been a virgin so that their first time together could be so wonderful, or if he should be hunting down the bastard who had taken Lina first.  

After a moment of reflection, Gourry concluded that he could easily do both.  Once he found that bastard, he was going to challenge him to a very long and drawn-out duel.  He probably wouldn't hurt the guy, just shred his dignity, and maybe his clothes too, into tiny little pieces—about less than one inch each should do it.  

With that decision made, Gourry sighed softly to himself and put thoughts of mild vengeance out of his mind, at least for the moment.  Instead, he let the image of Lina, writhing due to his touch, capture his imagination.  As he drifted off to sleep with Lina in his arms, Gourry knew that life didn't get any better than this.

------------------

Gourry jerked awake violently, and started pawing frantically at the masses of red threads that were on his face.  It was only when he heard Lina mumble his name groggily that he realized he had been dreaming.  Awareness of reality returned, and he recognized Lina's hair, remembered that they were in bed together, and why.  He tried to calm his racing heart with a few quick breaths while he murmured something reassuring to Lina.

It must have worked, because she snuggled back against him.  Within moments, her breathing eased back into the regular pattern of asleep.  Gourry, on the other hand, was wide-awake.  Once he was certain that he wouldn't bother her by moving, He gently disentangled himself from her and covered her with the peacock-blue comforter that had been folded at the foot of the bed.  Content that she was still sound asleep, Gourry got up.  

He had dreamed about his home and Lina, but now that he was fully awake, the details were fading fast, leaving him with a vague sense of unease.  He went over to the valet and slipped on his pants.  They were still just slightly damp, but not too bad.  He looked around the room, and although it was large, suddenly it felt confining.  He knew it was unlikely that anything could get through Lina's spells, but it also meant that he was stuck inside as well.  At the moment, all he wanted to do was get out into an open space and distract himself from the after-effects of his dream with an intense bout of swordplay.  

Instead, he helped himself to a liberal shot of whatever was in the decanter sitting on the mantle.

The amber liquor was stronger than the ale he was used to.  It burned as he swallowed and did little to dispel his edginess.  He hadn't dreamed of home in such a long time, he had thought that it was finally behind him.  In fact, he hadn't even thought about the events that had led him to become a mercenary since he'd met Lina.  Why were they coming back now?  

And that was when he saw it.  It was so obvious; he wondered that he hadn't noticed it earlier.  No wonder he had dreamed about home.  There, hanging on the wall above the mantle was a tapestry showing two golden-haired youths crossing swords.  Behind them, rose an old-fashioned motte-and-bailey style castle, with a white central keep rising above the timber palisade.  To the right of the central image was the Imperial Crest of the Elmekian Empire; to the left an emblem he had never thought to see again:  the ancient device of his family.  

Gourry ran his fingers over the embroidered hair of one of the youths.  That one was supposed to be his older brother.  The other one, of course, represented Gourry himself.  He remembered very clearly his mother and her ladies working on this tapestry, how they had gaily chatted as their needles flicked in and out of the cloth.  Once it was finished, his mother had asked him and his brother to hang it over the mantle in her sitting room.  She had said it would remind her of her two boys when they were far away.  How in the five hells had it come to be hanging in a whore's room, halfway across the known world?

In his mind's eye, he could see the white keep gleaming in the sun.  Every summer, the entire family had joined the villagers in applying the new coat of whitewash.  It was a hot, messy, and sometimes dangerous job, but everyone pitched in with good humor.  All the children ran around, sometimes fetching more whitewash or cleaning brushes, but mostly just barely staying out of the way.  Everyone knew the kitchen staff was working just as hard, and the feast would begin as soon as the job was done.  At the feast, the sages would retell the old stories, but Gourry and his brother had never paid attention; instead they had fought each other for the best of the food.  

Now, there was no one left to whitewash the keep or tell the old stories.  The last time he had seen his ancestral home, the timbers of the palisade were rotting and falling over.  The small village that had grown up over the years on the bailey was abandoned, and the once pristine keep was a gutted shell stained black with soot.

One thing was certain, Gourry couldn't stand to see it hanging there any longer.  It belonged to his family.  It belonged to _him_, now that he was the only one of his family left.  He took the tapestry carefully off the wall, folded it up, and then as an after-thought, wrapped it in his spare tunic.  He would show it to Lina later.  Maybe she could figure out what it was doing here.  She certainly seemed to like solving puzzles and mysteries.

Feeling a bit better, Gourry set the bundle down by Lina's cloak.  Then he noticed the remains of Lina's clothes scattered on the floor near the tub.  About the only things that had survived were her tunic and the yellow band.  Gourry wrung them out and hung them up to dry, before turning back to consider the rest of her clothes.  The tank-top and leggings were ruined, without a doubt.  He wondered how much it would cost to replace them.  But even if Lina extorted a fortune from him, and knowing her, she probably would, it was still worth it.  He rolled them up into a tight ball and stashed them in a corner of the room.  For some reason, his eyes were drawn back to the yellow band.  It was amazing how much flatter she looked with it on.  He tried to picture her without it.  What had she said?  That she did bounce, and the band helped hold her in place.  

If only they didn't have to give up the room for the night.  Thinking of Lina bouncing around made Gourry want to wake her up for another go.  A repeat performance, though, would probably leave him wiped out for the rest of the day, and there was also Deremar's greasy steward to worry about . . .  Gourry sighed and pulled a chair around so that he had a good view of Lina as she slept, and he could also watch the villagers as they went about their business.

*******************

Lina woke up very slowly and very reluctantly.  The bed was soft and cozy, and just a little bit more sleep seemed definitely to be in order.  She tried to ignore the sounds of Gourry moving around the room.  Figured he'd be up before her, he usually was the first to wake up.  She cracked an eye open to see what he was doing.  The blue walls of the room had taken on a golden tinge in the light of the setting sun, and Gourry stood by the window, backlit and limned in radiance.  Lina felt her breath come a bit faster at the sight of him, staring out the window, clad in just his pants.  Something about seeing him without his shirt made her want to call him back to bed.  

It wasn't that she had never seen him like that before.  There had been countless times that she had healed various cuts and scrapes, the results of minor, and major, scuffles with bandits and monsters.  This time, though, she wasn't just looking at her partner and companion, she was also looking at her lover.  Lina shivered at that thought.  Such a simple word to depict something otherwise indescribable.  Somehow though, silently calling him her lover seemed to be the fulfillment of their long relationship, rather than a new phase.  

With a wistful sigh, Lina gave up on the thought of the two of them coming up with new ways to fulfill each other, at least for the moment.  Gourry looked over at her.

"Get enough sleep?"

"No," she replied with a pout.  "It's unjust to make us work all night and then not have a place for us to catch up on sleep!"

Gourry smiled slightly.  "I thought justice was Amelia's thing."

Lina sniffed.  "It's still true."  Although Gourry was bantering with her, it seemed like his attention was some place else.  "What's up?"

"I'm not sure," he replied with a shrug.  The casual gesture was at odds with the concern in his tone.  "The villagers are acting funny."

"Funny how?"  Lina wasn't sure she really wanted to know the answer.

"Well," Gourry hesitated briefly.  "It kinda looks like they're getting ready to burn someone at the stake."

"What?  Who?"  Lina felt sick in the pit of her stomach, and she started to jump up out of the bed.  One small detail stopped her, however.  In spite of the intimacy they had shared, Lina still felt distinctly uncomfortable about Gourry seeing her parade about without any clothes on.  "Um . . . Gourry?"  Lina blushed.  "Could you toss me my tunic?"

For the first time since she had woken up, Lina had Gourry's full attention.  His smile was one part mischievous, one part lascivious, and one part pure joy as he scooped her tunic off the floor and threw it towards her.  As Lina reached up to catch it, she understood his smile.  Not only was her tunic still rather wet, but when she grabbed it, she ended up exposing her upper torso.

Lina glared at Gourry while covering her chest with the tunic.  "You did that on purpose," she accused.

Gourry just laughed while he went over and grabbed her spare clothes from where she had set them out to dry.  He rolled them into a ball and tossed them smoothly into her lap.

"Don't look," Lina ordered, and then started to dress once he had turned the other way.  She made a mental note to herself to make sure there was a towel or sheet or something close at hand next time.  After glancing over at Gourry's smoothly muscled back, she hoped "next time" would be sooner rather than later.

"Okay, you can look now," she announced.  With the demands of modesty addressed, Lina walked over to the window to see what the villagers were up to.  About halfway there, she noticed that Gourry was _looking_ at her, in a way she had never seen him do before, and it made her feel as if she were undressed.  It was both exhilarating and a bit uncomfortable.  She considered saying something to divert his attention, but by that point she was over by the window.

Gourry was right.  It did look like the village was getting ready to burn someone.  There was a stake set up in the middle of the square formed by the inn, the mill and the smithy.  Bundles of straw were strewn about the foot of the stake, and off to the side were piles of logs.  There were clumps of villagers milling about in small groups, and some small vendors had set up rude tables to hawk their wares.  Groups of children were weaving in and out among the adults, and as Lina watched, they mock assaulted another child and dragged her off to the stake.  It was pretty clear that they were playing.  The girl stood by the stake and screamed theatrically for a few moments before collapsing in a heap.  Then she stood up and ran off laughing with her friends.  There was definitely a macabre combination of the tense waiting and festival atmosphere that often accompanied public executions.

"Well, what do you think?"  Gourry was frowning while he watched the group of children who had just staged the mock burning.

"Yeah, it looks that way to me, too," Lina replied with a sigh as she pushed her hair out of her eyes.  "Maybe we should try to sneak out through the back exit."

"We could probably stop it," Gourry suggested with a gesture at the square.

"Yeah, we could, at least for today.  Even if we do, though, they'll just try again as soon as we're gone."  

"We could take whoever it is with us."

"We don't even know what's going on.  Maybe they've had this execution planned for weeks.  Maybe they've got a dangerous criminal, a murderer or a rapist or something.  Maybe whoever it is deserves to die."  And even if they didn't, once the blood-lust of a small settlement like this was aroused, nothing but blood would satisfy.

"Lina," Gourry said sounding sick, "no one deserves to be roasted alive."

"Try telling them that," Lina replied harshly, thrusting her chin out towards the crowds of people below.  The whole situation made her feel just as sick as Gourry.  Still, something wasn't quite right.  The atmosphere of the village yesterday and this morning had been rather pleasant and open.  There hadn't been a murderous undercurrent, or anything to suggest there would be an execution today.  She wondered what had happened to change things.

Gourry did not reply right away.  Then he clenched his jaw.  "Fine, I will."  He snatched his tunic off the valet and started pulling it over his head.

His reaction took her completely by surprise.  "I didn't mean it literally . . ."

"Well," he bit out while tucking his tunic into his pants, "I'm _not_ going to sit by and watch someone get burnt at the stake, whether they deserve it or not."

There were certain issues that Gourry would refuse to compromise on—like taking a bribe.  Lina sighed.  As a merchant's daughter, taking bribes came as naturally to her as breathing, but Gourry had absolutely no tolerance for it—but on the other hand, his unswerving dedication to his principles was part of his charm, and since he let her have her way _most_ of the time, she could afford to be generous, even in a situation that promised to be as messy as this one.

Lina picked up her cloak and slung it over her shoulders.  "It looks like it's time for us mighty bone-crushing heroes to get involved."  Lina flexed her muscles and struck a pose.

Gourry flashed her a quick look of gratitude as he buckled his armor in place.  While waiting for him to finish, Lina gathered up their few belongings.  Mostly it was just their laundry.  She wrinkled her nose at the sodden ruin of her leggings and under-things that had been wadded into a ball and shoved into a corner.  She didn't have to see them to know they were beyond repair, which meant that she had no back-up clothes.  Well, she'd just have to hold Gourry to his word and make him buy her a new set.

"Ready?"  Gourry asked as he fastened on his sword.

Honestly, no, she wasn't.  She knew they could deal with a bunch of bloodthirsty villagers, but she was definitely not looking forward to it.  And something about the entire situation just felt off, somehow.  With a mental sigh, Lina pushed her misgivings aside.  "Just waiting for you," she replied with a shrug.

*******************

Gourry watched while Lina took her spells off the window and then the door.  He was glad she had agreed to come with him.  Sure, all he had to do was wave his sword around a few times and stand in front of the stake looking threatening, and that would probably prevent the villagers from roasting anyone today.  Lina could probably deal with the whole mess much better, though.  She always seemed to know exactly what to do, no matter what kind of weird situation they found themselves in.

Once Lina finished with the door, she turned around and leaned against it, looking at him.  He couldn't quite tell what was going on behind her eyes.

"What?"

"Come here a minute," she replied, crooking a finger.

"What?"  He repeated as he walked towards her.

Lina straightened up and snaked her arms around his neck, drawing his head down.  She kissed him quite intently, her mouth opening just slightly for her tongue to flick out an invitation for his to follow.  After a moment, she sighed against him and released her hold on him.  "I won't forget your promise," she commented idly while rapping her knuckles on his breastplate.

"Which promise is that?"  Gourry wasn't quite sure what she was talking about.  He was too taken off guard by her sudden kiss.  Not that he was complaining, but for some reason he'd thought Lina would be more shy about their relationship, not so bold and upfront.  Especially after she made him turn away while she dressed.

Lina smiled up at him, a sweet innocent smile, but he could see her eyes dancing.  She turned and opened the door.  "The promise to buy me a new outfit," she said over her shoulder as she started walking down the hall.

So that was it.  Gourry snorted as he followed her out of the room.  "I never said that!"  Typical Lina move, to see how much she could extort from him.

"You most certainly did!  Right after you ripped my shirt!"  She sounded like a maiden affronted, full of righteous indignation, but the look she threw at him was one of barely suppressed mirth.

Gourry grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to stop at the head of the stairs, and turned her towards him.  He hooked his fingers into the yellow band she had tied around her chest again.  "Tell you what," he said guilelessly, "I'll buy you a new outfit if I get to pick it out."  Fair was fair, after all.  She had gotten to dress him up a couple times, so he should get a chance to return the favor.

He could see the wheels turning behind her eyes while she considered his offer.  She started to answer, but whatever she was going to say was interrupted by a blood-curdling shriek from outside.  Gourry bounded down the stairs two at a time, with Lina close on his heels.

Out in the square, the mood was decidedly ugly.  All the villagers' attention was focused on the center of the square, just to the side of the stake.  The shriek they had heard was repeated by a tall woman, who judging by her clothes was probably noble.  She stood hunched over the bundle in her arms:  it was the body of a young girl, her white shift was torn and bloodied in several places.  Beside her stood Deremar's greasy steward, and he was talking very fast.  There was an unholy light burning in his eyes, and he shook his fists at the sky to emphasize his words.  Gourry heard Lina gasp beside him, just as the steward pointed directly at the two of them.

Almost as one, the villagers turned around, and with a roar, they rushed forward . . . straight at Lina and Gourry.  Gourry stared at them for a brief moment while Lina grabbed his arm and started tugging him back through the doorway of the inn.  Suddenly, his instincts took over, and he slammed Lina into the ground, rolled over her, and came up standing, his sword drawn before him.  An arrow quivered in the lintel of the doorway; had they not moved, it would have taken Lina through the throat.

While they had been evading the arrow, the mob had pushed closer, and a few of them had armed themselves with crude weapons:  mostly cudgels, with a few pitchforks and butcher knives.  Gourry waved his sword in warning, and the crowd hesitated briefly.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lina stand up and draw her dagger, and they stood shoulder to shoulder before doorway to the inn.  He noted that the crowd seemed a bit thicker on her side.  Again, his instincts took over, and he jerked to his left just as another arrow streaked by.  Unfortunately, he wasn't quite fast enough, and hissed in pain as the arrow embedded itself in his upper arm, the force of its impact forcing him back a step.

"Gourry!"  Lina shouted with an edge to her voice as she turned toward him.

The mob surged forward and surrounded them—like a wild animal going in for the kill when its prey is weak—as yet another arrow hurtled towards them.  It just barely missed Lina, tearing through her cloak in the process and pinning it to the wall of the inn.  While Lina tried to rip her cloak free, Gourry lunged forward to intercept a man who was taking advantage of her distraction.  Lina danced out of his path just before the man struck with his cudgel.  A flick of Gourry's sword disarmed the man, and then Gourry punched him in the stomach with his uninjured arm, knocking him out.

The crowd snarled when the first of their number went down, and started to press in closer.  They were avoiding Gourry's sword and massing on his left.

"Fireball!" Lina shouted and the stake in the center of the square burst into flames.

The crowd turned as one to stare as the fire licked eagerly at the dry rushes, and Gourry turned to look at Lina.

"Guess we shoulda gone out the back door, after all," she muttered under her breath.

Gourry didn't have time to answer.  The tavern owner was rushing at them through the doorway and another arrow shattered against Gourry's shoulder guard.  And then the villagers were on them again.  Gourry felt something sharp slice into his calf and he kicked out instinctively.  His foot connected with a young woman who had just stabbed at him with a gutting knife, and she went flying back into the crowd.  He waved his sword again, and the mob backed off just a bit.  Although the arrow in his arm hindered its mobility a bit, he was more hampered by the fact that he couldn't bring himself to kill any of the villagers, regardless of how hate-crazed they seemed.

"Sleeping!"  Lina yelled out, and the tavern owner along with a few people next to him fell to the ground.  Gourry could hear a few sawing snores, and a quick glance confirmed that they were sprawled in the doorway.  Anyone who wanted to attack them from inside the inn would have to pick their way across a whole lot of bodies, and he took advantage of the situation by putting his back towards the doorway.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lina quickly do the same, ducking an arrow in the process.  

The crowd, as blood crazed as they were, could be dealt with.  The crowd plus a hidden archer was a completely different situation.  The arm that had taken the arrow hurt like hell and wasn't able to move as effectively.  The tip of his sword kept dipping towards the ground, and it was getting harder and harder to hold it steady.  So far only one arrow had hit, but it was only a matter of time before another one struck home.  Something had to be done about that archer.

Apparently Lina had come to the same conclusion.  She ducked a bit behind him and let him cover her.  Pretty soon, another arrow came streaking towards them.  Lina dodged in one direction, while he went the other, nearly impaling himself on a pitchfork.  With a grunt and a well-placed kick, Gourry sent it hurtling into the bonfire Lina's fireball had set off.  Meanwhile, Lina sent a slew of flare arrows along the path of the most recent arrow.  Gourry just happened to glance up in time to see the curtains in a second story window burst into flame.

"He won't be firing any arrows out of that window any time soon," Lina stated smugly.

"We'd better end this soon," Gourry grunted out.  His sword arm was nearly useless, and he switched his blade to his off hand.  Two men at the front of the mob took this as a sign that it was time to press the attack, and lunged at Gourry, one with an old short-sword, the other with something that looked like a cross between a pick and a hoe.  Both learned rather quickly that even with his left hand, Gourry was an accomplished swordsman.  Two flicks of his wrist, and the short sword went flying into the crowd and the other man was holding a short stick instead of a farm tool.  

Suddenly the crowd gasped and backed up a step.  Gourry glanced over, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lina step forward, her cloak billowing dramatically from the force of the magical energy she was summoning.  Although he kept an eye on the crowd, out of habit more than anything else, most of his attention, like that of the villagers, was fixed on Lina.  

A change always seemed to come over her when she used magic.  Somehow, she seemed to be more complete, or maybe it was more in tune with herself.  Her eyes were closed as she moved her hands in those gestures that seemed to be a part of spellcasting, particularly for the really big spells.  Then she opened her eyes, her jaw set tightly in concentration.  The crowd backed up yet another step just as Lina unleashed her spell.  "Flare bit!"

A cluster of small fire balls streamed from her hands, scattering into the crowd.  Those who were hit went down, and in some cases their clothes caught fire.  Everyone panicked at that point.  Gourry could see Deremar's steward gesturing wildly.  He seemed to be trying to refocus the crowd, but if he was saying anything, it was lost over the chaos.  

"Ray wing!"  

Just as Lina cast the spell, Gourry's eyes met those of the steward.  The hate he saw there struck him almost like a physical blow.  And then Lina scooped him up, and Gourry had to concentrate on not making a fool of himself as the ground swept away.

*******************

Lina flew the two of them beyond the unofficial borders of the village deep into the forest, her mind churning furiously.  Why would Deremar's steward have set the villagers on them?  What did they hope to accomplish?  All Lina knew for certain was that it was very important not to permanently harm any of the villagers until she knew what was going on.  It had all happened so fast, but she was glad Gourry had held back as well.  Once they had gotten a little bit of breathing room, it was almost comically easy to cow the crowd.  A Diem Claw to cause her cloak to billow dramatically, some impressive hand gestures, and even Gourry had looked a bit on the nervous side about what she was casting.  She probably could have cast a Zelas Gort on them and had them fleeing before her.  As Xellos had said, if you can fool your friends, you can fool your enemies.  The situation would have been comical, if it weren't for that archer.  Lina set her jaw and looked for a suitable landing place, selecting a clearing close to a small stream.

Once they were on the ground, Gourry shuddered, and sat down hard.  "I really hate flying," he muttered to no one in particular.

Lina ignored him, and focused instead on his arm.  "Let me see," she commanded.

A trickle of blood ran down Gourry's arm, but there was not much bleeding, which wasn't a good sign.  It meant the arrow had gone in pretty deep.  It was amazing that Gourry had been able to use his sword with that arm as long as he had.  "I think it needs to be cut out, first.  Then I can cast recovery."

Gourry nodded.  "Yeah, that's what I thought, too." 

Lina drew her dagger, and cut away the sleeve of Gourry's shirt.  She took a deep breath, her stomach feeling a bit queasy at the prospect of cutting into Gourry.  "Ready?"

Gourry clenched his jaw and looked away.  With another deep breath, Lina sliced into his arm, as close to the arrow as she could.  Gourry hissed, but other than that, he gave no indication that she was hurting him.  Once she was pretty sure that she had cut deeply enough, she tugged gently on the arrow which came free with minimal resistance, followed by a great gout of blood.  Lina tossed the arrow aside, and put pressure on Gourry's arm to stop the bleeding.  Her heart was racing, and she took a couple more deep breaths to calm herself down.  Gourry's blood continued to seep under her hands.

"Oh, blessed and humble hand of God," Lina felt her tension and anxiety melt away as she called on the magic, "life and breath of Mother Earth, come before me and show your great compassion for Gourry."  She could feel warmth welling up inside of her, flowing through her and into Gourry.  "Deliver us!"  

Time had no meaning as Lina channeled the healing magic she had summoned into Gourry.  In an abstracted way, she thought there was something different about the way the spell was functioning, but mostly she concentrating on maintaining the energy.  When it finally seemed done, she opened her eyes and lifted her hands.  There was a faint scar remaining, but other than that, no sign of injury.

Gourry flexed his arm carefully.  Then he smiled up at her.  "Good as new," he announced cheerfully, although his eyes were thoughtful.

Before Lina had a chance to reply, her stomach gurgled insistently.  She groaned theatrically.  "We haven't eaten since breakfast, and here it is almost sundown."  She surveyed the area.  Although it wasn't ideal, it would serve as a temporary campground.  Gourry's arm may be healed, but he probably wasn't up to any strenuous activity yet.  "You stay here and rest.  I'll go see if I can find us something to eat."

As she turned to go out in search of food, Gourry called out, "Hey, Lina!  See if you can't find some eggs."

That stopped her cold in her tracks.  "Eggs?"  She asked incredulously as she turned around to face him.  It was a really odd request, considering that they were in the middle of the forest, and neither of them was picky, eating whatever they could forage.  "Why do you want eggs?"

"Um . . . I felt like them?"  Gourry offered after a brief pause.

"You . . . felt like them?"  If anything, that made Lina even more curious.  It wasn't like Gourry to prevaricate like that.  "And could you explain to me why you happen to 'feel like' eggs, right now, when we're in the middle of nowhere, and the closets chickens happen to be in a village that just mobbed us and tried to burn us at the stake!"

"Why do you think they did that, anyway?"

Lina sat down, clasping her knees to her chest, hunger momentarily forgotten.  "Did you hear what Elfred was saying?"

"Who?"

"Deremar's steward."

"Oh, him.  No, I could tell he was shouting at everyone, but I wasn't paying attention to what he said."

"Gourry, you _never_ pay attention to what people say," Lina replied in exasperation.

Gourry just shrugged.

Lina heaved a long-suffering sigh.  "Elfred _said_ that we had viciously murdered Lucilla.  And before you can ask who Lucilla is, Lucilla is, or was, Deremar's niece.  The one he was 'entertaining' in his chambers last night."  Was it only last night?  Last night seemed so far away now.

"The blonde?"  Gourry asked in a sick voice.  "Was that who that woman was holding?"

"Yeah," Lina felt just as sick as Gourry sounded.  "I'm pretty sure it was her.  I think the woman was her mother, Deremar's sister Monara."  She drew a circle in the dirt by her foot.

"Maybe you shouldn't have asked for that extra money after all."

Secretly, Lina wondered the same thing.  Was it her fault that Lucilla had been killed?  "Oh, c'mon Gourry, do you _really_ think Lucilla was killed because of that?  It wasn't that much more money, after all."

"But you didn't just ask for more money," Gourry pointed out.  "You also threatened his reputation."

Lina mulled it over, her finger continuing to trace a circular path in the dirt.  "No," she said suddenly, "it just doesn't make sense, no matter how I look at it.  There's no reason to kill Lucilla, just because we threatened to tell about their little affair.  They should've tried to kill us instead."

"They did try . . . well, sort of."

"Exactly, they tried 'sort of'," Lina replied with a snort.  "Like an angry mob could have ever gotten the two of us tied to a stake.  No, there's something else going on here . . ."  She stood up and placed her hands on her hips.  "Now, why was it you wanted eggs again?"

It was barely noticeable, but she was pretty sure she saw Gourry twitch at the question.  He regarded her cautiously for a good long moment before answering.  "You're not going to let it go, are you?"

"Nope!"

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Gourry!"  Lina was fast losing patience, especially when her stomach rumbled insistently again.

"Okay, okay," he muttered.  "My mother told me I should always eat a boiled egg to restore my vittle energy after . . ."

"Vittle . . . ?  You mean _vital_ energy?"  Lina interrupted.

"Yeah, whatever."

"What's the big deal with that?"  Lina considered for a moment.  "Wait, then how come I've never seen you eat a boiled egg after being injured before?"

Gourry looked at her strangely.  "Because I'm supposed to eat one after sex."  He wrinkled his nose.  "I don't really like boiled eggs all that much, but . . ."  He shrugged.  "My mother _actually_ said that my wife should cook it for me, but I've usually just done it myself."  He shrugged again.

Oh.  "Well, in that case, I'll see what I can do."  Before Gourry could reply, Lina Ray Winged her way out of the clearing.  

Several thoughts whirled through her head, all competing for her attention.  The first thought was to return back to the village and steal a couple eggs and chickens—would serve them right for mobbing them.  The next was shock at Gourry's tacit admission.  Not that she had thought that he hadn't been with other women before.  Actually, she hadn't thought of it at all, but now that she did, it made her feel a little weird.  She wanted Gourry all to herself, and irrationally, she felt like she had been forced to share him before she had even known him.  Combined with twinges of jealousy, was the fact that something very strange was going on with Deremar and Elfred.  Or at least with Elfred.  Who knew what Deremar's role in this situation was?  One thing was certain, however, and that was she was going to find out, and whoever was responsible was going to pay.  No one messed with the name and reputation of Lina Inverse! 


	4. Eggs and Memories

**Flam Gush 4**

Lina pushed herself hard for two reasons:  she didn't like the idea of leaving Gourry by himself right now, and she was starving, more so than normal.  Not that she hadn't skipped meals before, but she couldn't recall the last time she had skipped meals, then fought a quick battle, ray winged for a long distance and then cast a heal spell . . . all on little sleep.  The closest match was that time she and Zel had been running from Rezo and Dilgear.  Of course, that time, there hadn't been any extra curricular activities going on, either.

Chickens and eggs, and anything else she could get her hands on.  Lina landed on the roof of the inn and took a quick breather.  Of course, she'd prefer to liberate her food from Deremar's keep itself, since that place seemed to be the source of their current difficulties, but logistics suggested the inn was a safer bet:  she knew where the kitchen was, and had a good idea as to the location of the storeroom.

The town was surprisingly deserted, and the few people who were out and about didn't bother looking up, making her current task all that much easier.  After getting her bearings, she cast levitation, and glided to the ground on the back side of the inn, landing on the short path that led from the kitchen to the small separate out-building that served as the inn's store room.

Lina ducked inside and carefully closed the door behind her before anyone saw her.  She gave herself a few moments to let her eyes adjust to the gloom, but her nose clearly told her that she had hit the jackpot—not quite the selection and quantity she would expect from a quality inn, but certainly good enough for her purposes.  Lina picked up a small wheel of yellow cheese, slicing out a nice-sized wedge and wolfing it down before slipping the rest into a sack.  She also pilfered some potatoes, and she carved off a liberal haunch from a side of beef hanging on a hook.  A largish loaf of bread was added to the sack next, followed by some butter, which was sitting in a pottery crock next to a basket filled with eggs.  

Eating a hard-boiled egg after sex . . . Lina had to admit, but that one was original.  Maybe it was some obscure custom from wherever it was that Gourry was from.  She wasn't quite sure what it was about chickens . . . in her hometown, women always ate a boiled chicken the day after they had a baby.  Personally, Lina preferred her chickens roasted rather than boiled, but boiled chickens were kind of similar to boiled eggs, she supposed.  

In the midst of her judicious pilfering, Lina heard the door to the inn slam closed.  She dropped the sack she had been stuffing with food into one of the handy pockets in her cloak and quickly cast levitation, hoping that her current luck would hold and that the ceiling would be the best possible hiding place.  As she floated over to a darker corner, she heard the crunch of footsteps falling along the gravel path that led from the inn, and within moments, a young girl entered.  Lina watched her lean against the door and take a deep breath before she started rummaging through the food.

Only a few moments had passed before Lina once again heard the crunch of footsteps on the gravel path.  The girl jumped noticeably at the sound, and then she started glancing around frantically.  Before she had a chance to make any decision, the door to the store room opened and a burly looking man slipped inside.

"Garik!  You startled me," the girl declared in a voice that was stretched with tension.

"I thought I'd find you in here," the man drawled in response.  Then, with a speed that contrasted with the deliberate slowness of his speech, he grabbed the girl's arms and pinned her to the wall.

"Please don't," she whimpered.  "I need to get back soon . . ."

"Don't worry," Garik replied as he wormed his hand underneath her blouse, "what I want from you won't take long."

The girl struggled rather ineffectually as the man buried his face in her neck.  Watching the scene below made Lina sick to her stomach, and without pausing to consider the fact that she was in a village where the inhabitants had tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to roast her at the stake earlier that same day, Lina swooped down from her hiding place with the force of a spell gathered in her hand.  The girl's eyes widened in shock and she suddenly stopped struggling when she saw Lina approach, but the man was too involved in what he was doing to notice.  Lina pulled him off of the girl, using surprise and leverage to her advantage, and before he could react, hit him with a Mano Volt.  As he lost consciousness and fell to the ground, she noted absently that he wore a patch over his left eye.

The girl stood staring at her while tears streaked down her face.  Suddenly, Lina was just angry.  She wanted to slap the girl.  Or slap some sense into her.  She wasn't sure which.  She took a deep breath.  "Don't worry," she said with a sickly sweet smile, "he's not permanently damaged."

At Lina's words, the other girl crumpled into a heap and started sobbing.  If anything, it made Lina even angrier.  She clenched her hands into fists.  "Stop that," she commanded in a low voice, almost a growl.

The other girl gulped and hiccupped a few times, but she did stop crying, instead staring up in horror at Lina.  "Why did you do that?"  Her voice was a barely audible whisper.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Lina said acidly.  "I didn't realize I shouldn't have interrupted."  She grabbed the girl's shirt and pulled her close.  "Next time, I'll just let the guy rape the girl.  No big deal right?"

Tears streamed down the girl's face.  "I meant thank you," she stammered.

Lina let go of the girl's shirt and backed up a pace.  "This time, you got lucky.  Tears and thank yous, though, aren't going to help you next time."

"But I'm not strong," she wailed.

Something snapped inside Lina, and her anger drained away.  "Look at me," Lina commanded, drawing herself up to her full height, inconsiderable though it was.  "Do I look strong to you?"  She paused, and the other girl hesitantly shook her head.  "Of course, not," Lina continued.  "I look like a skinny, scrawny kid, right?"  The other girl nodded, a bit less hesitantly this time.  Lina hunkered down.  "I used to be you," she said in a conspiratorial whisper.  "Small.  Weak.  I counted on my big sister to bail me out of trouble.  Want to know what happened?"

"What?"  The girl hiccoughed through her tears.

Lina shrugged and continued in a normal voice.  "I discovered that strength is more about your attitude than anything else."  She stood up and nudged the body of the would-be rapist with her foot.  "He won't be out forever, so I'd get out of here if I were you.  Go find the sheriff or something."  As she pushed the door open to leave, girl muttered something under her breath, but Lina did not stop to acknowledge her.  

She felt tired and drained.  Too much had happened in too short a time, and she was still reeling.  Lack of sleep, food (although the slice of cheese had helped), and continued use of her magic was catching up with her, making everything seem just slightly unreal.  Something about her encounter with the girl bothered her, but she pushed it out of her mind for the moment.  She wanted to get away from this crazy village and all the problems it seemed to pose.  Most of all, she wanted to get back to Gourry.  Maybe then she could feel normal again.

*******************

Gourry watched Lina beat a hasty retreat, and wondered what had made him bring up the boiled eggs.  He hadn't even thought about it in years.  Maybe it was finding the tapestry that had him thinking about his mother and her advice.  

She had always been full of advice.  In a lot of ways, his mother was like Lina:  she had an opinion about everything and there was nothing she couldn't do.  Once, when he had first been learning how to use a sword, she had come to watch him spar on the practice field.  And then, to his surprise, she had challenged him to a match.  Gourry had stared at her in shock, as she stood there in her formal skirts, a sword held effortlessly in her hand.  For some reason, it had never occurred to him that his mother could wield a sword, a misconception that almost cost him the match at the outset.  Her sword patterns had been graceful and fluid and she almost looked like she was dancing across the practice field, although he quickly learned that her strokes could effortlessly break through his guard.  He had to use all of his concentration to keep up with her, and soon they were both panting for breath, but there was a kind of joy in sparring with her, something he had never experienced before.  

Whenever he was knee-deep in blood, fighting some lord's battle and disgusted by all the killing, he would think back on that sparring match and remember the joy of crossing swords with a skilled opponent.  For Gourry, wielding a sword was not about hack and slash, it was about developing skill, and he had found many ways to immobilize an opponent that did not involve maiming or killing.

It would probably take Lina a while to come back, so Gourry took a look around the clearing she had chosen, trying to find some way to kill the time.  There was a scar in the center, indicating that people had camped here before, but it also looked like it hadn't been used for quite some time.  Well, the first order of business would be water and a fire.

Finding water was easy, but it took him longer to gather wood and get the fire going.  At first, he had favored his sword arm.  Lina was strong enough in healing magic to handle most of their needs, but even so, it usually took a few days for the injury to heal completely, and during that time it seemed like he needed a lot more sleep than normal.  But after gathering and carrying back the first load of wood, he realized that his arm wasn't even sore.  Come to think of it, when Lina had been casting the spell, something had felt different, although he couldn't quite put his finger on what.  

Once the fire was cheerily burning, Gourry pulled out his sword and a whetstone, examining the edge of the blade.  As he started honing out the first nick, his mind wandered over the events of the past day.  It seemed like everything was happening at once:  Lina turning to him after all this time, the whole thing with Deremar and his niece, and finding his mother's tapestry.  Sometimes they went forever with nothing interesting happening, but once the action started, it always seemed to lead to some earth-shattering fight to save the known universe.  Gourry idly wondered what it would be like to settle down, and he had the curious mental image of Lina wearing a frilly white apron and chopping vegetables while a cluster of children clung to her legs.  He snorted.  No, Lina wouldn't be the one to quietly work in a kitchen, tending to children.  She'd have to be the lady of the castle, like his mother had been, if she could ever settle down at all.  

The steely rasp of the whetstone on his blade stopped as he considered the direction of his thoughts.  There was no question, never had been really, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Lina.  But, he had never before tried to picture any life with her besides them going from odd-job to odd-job, from adventure to adventure.  Of course, that had been before yesterday.  He didn't necessarily want to settle down tomorrow, but it had been such a long time since he had a home and family to return to.  The tapestry had brought back memories that he had suppressed years ago, and that, in combination with the added dimension to his relationship with Lina, made him homesick.

No, it was more than homesick.  That was certainly a part of it, but there was also the desire to take care of unfinished business, and that surprised him.  Maybe once they finished dealing with Deremar and his steward . . .  Gourry's mouth hardened into a firm line.  He had no clue what was going on with them and why they were murdering young girls and such, but they were involved now, like it or no, and he had never known Lina to back down from this kind of blatant challenge.  

When Lina landed at the edge of the clearing a few moments later, Gourry was honing out the last of the nicks in his sword.  His smile of greeting quickly shifted to an expression of concern.  Lina looked pale . . . kind of thin around the edges, his father would have said.  He sheathed his sword, set it on the ground next to him, and rose to his feet in one smooth motion.

"Are you okay?"  He asked as he relieved her of a large, and rather heavy, sack.

"Just hungry," she replied absently as she sank to the ground and started rummaging through her cloak, pulling out a small pot.  "Did you find some water?"

As Gourry's mouth was full of the bread he had found in the sack, he gestured at a water skin sitting near the fire.

While Lina filled her pot with water and started skewering potatoes and chunks of meat, Gourry made simple sandwiches with the cheese and bread.

"I found you an egg . . . " Lina trailed off, staring at the trees on the other side of the clearing.

"Thanks," Gourry replied, handing her a sandwich.

After a brief pause, Lina took the proffered sandwich and started munching on it absently, looking anywhere but at him.

Gourry watched her eat, wondering what was bothering her.  She wasn't paying attention to her food, and her brow was furrowed in concentration.  After a moment, Gourry shrugged and started eating his own sandwich while holding one of the skewers Lina had made over the fire.  Whatever it was, he was sure it would keep until after his stomach was full.

"Gourry?"  Lina asked tentatively, finally breaking the silence.

"Yeah?"

He heard her take a deep breath, and when he glanced over at her, he noticed that she was chewing on her lip.

"Do you want me to boil the egg for you?"

Was that all?  "Sure, if you want to."  Gourry shrugged and rotated the skewer to cook a bit more on the other side.

Lina started sputtering, although he had no clue why.  "But . . . but I thought . . . Oh, never mind what I thought," she concluded in disgust.  She put an egg in her pot of water and placed it at the edge of the fire, muttering under her breath the whole time about eggs and stupid jellyfish.

Gourry wasn't sure what he had done to annoy her this time, but he did know that anything he could say right now was likely to make things worse.

They sat in silence (after Lina stopped muttering, that is), roasting and eating their dinner.  Lina fished the boiled egg out of the pot and then she glanced over at him with that strange expression again.

"What?"  She was making him edgy the way she kept doing that.

Lina heaved a sigh of disgust and handed him the egg without comment.  Then she leaned back on her elbows and stared up at the first stars appearing in the sky.  Gourry watched her as he peeled off the shell and ate his egg.  As he did, he wondered again why he had brought the whole thing up in the first place.  Something about it was bothering Lina, but he couldn't decide if he wanted to deal with it today, or just leave it until she was ready.  

Sometimes, most times actually, it was better to just wait her out.  If it was important enough, she'd tell him, and if it wasn't she'd forget it . . . eventually.  

Gourry stood up to place more wood on the fire, and then went over and sat down next to Lina.  "Why don't we get some rest?  It's probably not necessary to set watches or anything."

"You're probably right."  Lina leaned into him with a small sigh.  "It's been crazy these past two days." 

"What do you want to do?"  Gourry put his arm around her, gently stroking her hair.

"Mmmm," she murmured appreciatively as she leaned into his caress, "that feels good.  About what?"

"Everything."  Gourry gestured in the general direction of the village with his free hand.  "Deremar and that village and all."

"Right now," Lina answered emphatically, "I don't want to think about it."  She pulled away from him gently.  "I'm gonna go wash up a bit.  Where'd you get the water?"

Gourry pointed out the path to take.  "I never did wash your back, did I?"  He asked regretfully.

"That's okay."  Lina stood up and stretched.  "I'm sure there'll be tons of opportunities in the future," she promised.

*******************

The small stream was not too far from the campsite and really easy to find.  It was just a matter of following the slightly worn path that meandered through the trees.  Lina eyed the babbling water with a slight grimace of distaste.  It looked really cold.  She dipped a tentative hand into the water and shuddered.  Cold was putting mildly; frosty would probably be more accurate.  Lina glared at the water.  Something that chilly shouldn't be allowed to gurgle so pleasantly.

She briefly considered using a fireball to heat the water, but two things held her back.  Although she was confident that no one from Deremar's village would be able to track them to their current location, a fireball would certainly change that.  Even more importantly, however, was the fact that the stream was moving pretty fast, which meant that her nice warm water would very quickly be replaced with fresh new cold water.  All in all, it really wasn't worth the effort.

Well, if she wanted to wash up a bit, this was all there was.  And it wasn't like she was planning to take a full bath.  Lina splashed some water on her face and scrubbed it with her hands.  As much as she hated to admit it, there was something invigorating about icy water.  At least it had cleared some of the fog out of her head so she could think a bit more clearly.  Lina pushed her wet bangs out of her eyes and started back to their camp.

It was still true; she didn't really want to think about Deremar or the village.  Not right now.  She didn't really want to think about Gourry and his eggs, either, but for some reason, she just couldn't get it out of her mind.  It hadn't really hit her until she got back to the camp, but when Gourry had asked her to get him some eggs, he had said that his wife was supposed to prepare them for him.  Of course, it really didn't seem possible that Gourry was capable of that level of subtlety.  His request for eggs couldn't have been . . . a marriage proposal . . . could it?  

Wasn't marriage kind of the logical conclusion to their relationship?  Lina had never really considered marriage, well at least not seriously.  There had been that incident with Hallas and Callie . . . and of course she had talked about finding a prince . . .  It wasn't that she could ever consider not being with Gourry.  He was too much of a constant in her life.  But marriage?  There had really been only one way to find out, and so she had asked him if he wanted her to prepare the eggs.  And, of course, he gave her that clueless look, making her feel more than a bit foolish for even considering the possibility, but also, a little disappointed.

When the campsite came into view, Gourry was sitting by the fire, poking at it with a stick.  He smiled at her in greeting, but his attention was focused on the fire.  Lina walked over to her pack and started rummaging around for her brush.  "What're you doing?"

"Roasting a pinecone."

"A what?"

"A pinecone," he replied calmly.  "If you roast them, you can get at the seeds easier."

"You can actually eat pinecone seeds?"  Lina finally located her brush and started pulling it through her hair, yanking viciously through the tangles.  Sometimes she wished her hair was straighter, like Amelia's.  It wasn't that her own hair was curly or anything, but it had enough of a wave to require regular brushing, and she hadn't had a chance to attend to it the past couple of days.

"Haven't you ever had pine nuts before," Gourry asked incredulously as he nudged the pinecone away from the fire.

Lina shook her head, grunting as she attacked a particularly vicious tangle.  "How much longer until you're done?"

"It'll be ready as soon as it pops."  Gourry poked at the pinecone again with his stick.  "It's pretty green, so it'll probably still be a while.  Why?"

"Just wondering.  You're the one who suggested we get some rest, after all.  How does your arm feel?"

"Fine," Gourry replied as he flexed his arm experimentally.

She looked over at him critically.  "You should probably change your tunic, you know."  

"I'll just change it in the morning.  Now we both need new clothes, don't we."

"Seems that way," Lina replied with a sharp grin.  "Of course, I won't let you forget that you're going to buy me a new set of clothes."

"Hmm.  And _I_ haven't forgotten that I get to pick them out!"  Gourry leered at her in a way that made her question the wisdom of letting him choose her next outfit.

"Well," she hedged, "only if I like them."

"That wasn't a part of our agreement," he pointed out reasonably.  "Just that I'd pay if I got to do the choosing."

"Well, I never agreed to it," Lina huffed.  

"That's too bad, isn't it?" Gourry replied unsympathetically.  "If you want me to pay, I get to pick what I'm buying."  He set his jaw stubbornly.

"You're going to insist, aren't you?"  Lina stared at him incredulously, wondering why he cared about it so much.

"Yup."

"Why?"

Gourry looked over at her for a few moments without answering.  Then he shrugged.  "After all the times you've dressed me up, I'd say it's only fair that I get a turn."

"What do you mean 'all the times'?  I only did it twice, and it's not like we had a lot of options either time."

Gourry shuddered.  "That was two times too many . . . No, you dressed me up three times!"

Lina stared at him.  "No, it was only twice!  Once for the Kingdom of Femille, and once so we could get a ship in Sandoria."

"What about the time you dressed me up as a mermaid," Gourry accused.

"A what?"

"Don't you remember?  It was to help that weird . . ."  Gourry trailed off.  

"Gourry, I _never_ dressed you up as a mermaid to help _anyone_.  I'm sure I'd remember _that_!"

"Actually, I think Amelia did that, now that I think about it."

Lina's eyes tried to bug out as she imagined Amelia dressing up Gourry, and she felt an irrational surge of jealousy.  "When _exactly_ was this that Amelia dressed you up like a mermaid?" /And where was I?/ 

"It was on some tropical island where a bunch of fish people lived.  I think Amelia was trying to help them find true love, but the guy ended up turning into a fish, and the girl turned into a human."

Lina shook her head.  "Gourry, you're not making any sense, you know."

"Believe me, it didn't make any sense then either."  Gourry shuddered and then poked at the pinecone again.  "I think this is just about ready."  Then he glanced back at her.  "Are you done with the brush?"

"Yeah."  Lina tossed the brush in his direction and wrapped her hands around her knees, watching as he started yanking through his own set of tangles.  It seemed incredibly unfair that he seemed to have an easier time with his hair than she did with hers.  "You know," she commented after a moment, "I don't think I've ever seen you brush your hair before."

"Really?"  Gourry seemed surprised by that.

"Yeah, really."  The way he pulled the brush through his hair, combined with the way the firelight glinted off of it mesmerized her and made her feel flushed.  She moved closer to him so that she was kneeling behind him, and she pushed his hair out of the way so she could kiss the back of his neck.

Gourry sighed, and Lina draped her arms over his shoulders, just enjoying being close to him.

"Lina?"  Gourry asked softly.

"Hmm?"

"It's really different from the way I thought it would be."  He tugged her gently around him into his lap.

"What is?" Lina leaned her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"This."  Gourry gestured vaguely at their surroundings.  "You.  Us."

Lina didn't respond; she just waited for him to say whatever it was he needed to say.  

"Just last night, I was cursing the fact that you only treated me like a brother."  Gourry paused, and then took a deep breath.  "I never dreamed it would be like this."

"You said that already," Lina pointed out.  And here she had thought he only saw her as a kid sister!  "Is that good or bad?"

"I don't know, just different, I guess."  Gourry lifted her chin and kissed her, a kiss that she enthusiastically returned.  "I guess I thought you would be more shy."

"Is that the kind of girl you want?"  Lina looked up at him in surprise.

"That's not what I meant.  It's just the way you always got so worked up about protecting your innocence and all."

"I guess," Lina said slowly, "I just wasn't ready before.  That's all."  She paused to consider.  Somehow, she couldn't quite explain it, even to herself.  Before yesterday, she just hadn't been interested.

"So what happened?"

Lina smiled up at Gourry.  "I heard you breathing," she said simply.

"Hunh?"

"It's strange, isn't it?  Last night, I heard you breathing, and somehow it changed everything."  

Gourry started muttering under his breath.

"What?"

"Well, it's just that of all the crazy schemes I had thought up, it never ever occurred to me that all I had to do was breathe on you.  If I had known that was all it took, I'd have done it ages ago."

"Crazy schemes?  Like what?"  Lina's curiosity got the better of her and she struggled to sit up straight.

"Oh, I don't know.  If I remember any, maybe I'll tell you about them some time."

"What do you mean 'if you remember'?"  Lina huffed in indignation.  "You must remember something or you wouldn't have brought it up just now!"  

"Hmm," Gourry murmured as he soothed her with an ardent caress.  "I can think of better things to do right now than wrack my brains to satisfy your curiosity!"

*******************

Once again, Gourry woke up with a mass of red threads in his face.  This time, however, he smiled instead of panicking.  It was a small price to pay to have Lina in his arms.  Ordinarily, he would have gotten up right after waking and started setting the camp in order.  But today, he allowed himself the luxury of a bit of extra sleep, after pushing Lina's hair out of his face, that is.

The sun was maybe an hour or so higher when Lina started stirring, waking him up yet again.  She rolled over to face him.  "Sleep well?"  She asked as she brushed his hair out of his eyes.

"Mmm."  He sat up and stretched, rotating his head to work out the kinks.  "Better than normal, considering we're camping out."  He yawned hugely.  "How about you?"

"Well enough."  Lina pulled the blanket they had been sharing up around her with one hand and with the other she snatched up her tunic.  "Don't look," she commanded.

Her request took him by surprise, and Gourry considered saying something, after all, he had undressed her twice now, and he certainly hadn't gotten any complaints from her, quite the opposite in fact.  He decided to keep quiet for the time being.  For whatever reason, Lina was shy about getting dressed in front of him, go figure, so he obediently turned around, taking the opportunity to pull on his pants.  

"Okay, you can look now," Lina announced.

Gourry turned around just in time to catch her in mid-stretch.  She was only wearing her tunic.  "Is that what you're wearing today?"  He asked mildly.  "You might get a little cold," he added as he eyed her legs appreciatively.

"Stop ogling and help me find my leggings.  They've got to be around here somewhere . . . " she muttered as she picked up one of their blankets and shook it out.  When that failed to produce the missing clothing, she tossed the blanket aside with a snort and picked up the other one.

"If you were tidier, you wouldn't have so much trouble finding your stuff," Gourry reproved as he picked up the blanket she had dropped and folded it up.

"Hey," Lina objected as she vigorously shook the second blanket.  "I'm not the one who took them off last night, remember?  There they are!"  Finding her leggings seemed to improve her mood dramatically, and she didn't even make him turn around as she slipped them on.  She looked at him then, her eyes raking over his torso much the way he had looked at her legs earlier, and to his surprise, he felt himself flushing, partly because it was a very odd experience to be sized up so obviously, and partly because he could tell that Lina liked what she saw.  

After a moment, Gourry turned away and looked around for his tunic and Lina started rummaging around the fire, getting some food ready for their breakfast.  It didn't take him long to find it, and even less to remember that in his haste to take it off last night, he had ripped the sleeve even more.  "Hey, Lina, what'd you do with my spare tunic?"

"It should be around here somewhere," she replied as she rooted through the meager pile of their belongings.  When she found the spare and pulled it out, something fell to the ground.  Lina lobbed the tunic in his direction and bent over to pick up the fallen object.

"Gourry, what's this?"  She asked, holding up the tapestry he had taken from the room in the inn.

"Oh, yeah.  I wanted to show you this."  Gourry took the tapestry from her and carefully unfolded it.  "I found this in our room yesterday," he said as he smoothed it out.

Lina peered at it.  "You took this from that village?"

"Yeah." Gourry watched as she traced the embroidered figure that represented him with the tip of her finger and felt a shiver race up his spine.

"That's you, isn't it?"  Lina said it so sharply, it almost sounded like an accusation.

The shiver intensified, but Gourry nodded.  "How'd you know?"

Lina tapped the embroidered figure.  "You hold your sword the same way."  She paused and glanced over at him.  "The long blond hair helped, too," she added with a grin.  Then the grin faded.  "Who's this?"  She indicated the other figure.

"My older brother," Gourry replied shortly.

"I didn't know you had a brother," Lina said thoughtfully.  "Actually, you've never really talked about your family at all."

Gourry dragged his eyes away from the tapestry and looked up at her, noting that she was chewing on her lower lip.  It was a habit that made her look about ten years younger.  It had never particularly bothered him before, but now he found that he didn't want her to look like a little kid, so he reached over and smoothed her lips with his thumb.  "About as much as you talk about yours.  All I know is that you have a big sister, and that you have merchant blood."

"Hmm."  Lina sighed a bit at his caress and turned her attention back to the tapestry, this time focusing on the heraldry devices.  "This looks a lot like the symbol of the Elmekian Empire, except . . ."  She trailed off.

"Except what?"  As far as Gourry knew, it was the Elmekian device.

"Well, this is supposed to be you and your brother, right?"

"What's that got to do with the symbol?"

"If this is you and your brother, the tapestry can't be more than twenty years old.  Probably more like ten at the most.  But this symbol hasn't been used in this form for hundreds of years."  Lina pointed to the eagle with extended wings in the center of the device.  "The current symbol uses a griffin instead of an eagle.  Once the Elmekians started conquering more territory, they decided that an eagle wasn't impressive enough, so they changed it, about the same time they changed their name from the Elmekian Kingdom to the Elmekian Empire.  This one here," she continued as she tapped the eagle on the tapestry, "is the symbol of the Elmekian kings."

Gourry squinted at the device, and then tried to picture the standard he had last seen in the Elmekian army.  "Yeah," he replied, vaguely recalling that there was a slight difference.  "Doesn't the one you're talking about have a different bottom?"

"Yep.  Instead of eagle claws, it has the hindquarters of a lion.  That's what a griffin is:  the head of an eagle and the back part of a lion."

"A lying?"  Gourry suppressed a grin.  Sometimes it was ridiculously easy to get Lina going.

"No, Gourry," Lina heaved a half-disgusted sigh.  "A _lion_.  It's a mythical beast, supposedly very noble and a crafty hunter."

"Just kidding.  I know what a lion is.  Still—Hey!  What'd'ya do that for?"

Lina had interrupted him by hitting him upside the head.  

"That has got to be _the_ most annoying habit I've ever encountered in my entire life!"  She spat out from between clenched teeth.

"You take things too seriously all the time, you know."

"No," she retorted, "I just take things at face value.  It's a lot easier than second-guessing people all the time.  None of this explains why this tapestry uses such an antiquated device, though."  Lina turned her attention back to the tapestry with an annoying single-mindedness.  "Who made this?"

"My mother," he replied absently.  He was still thinking about her statement that she took things at face value.  It certainly explained a lot, like her easy acceptance of people switching sides on her.   Xellos had done that a few times, and it never seemed to slow her down.  Gourry shrugged to himself.  It might save time, but it still made Lina ridiculously easy to tease.

Lina pushed her hands through her hair.  "Do you know how it ended up here, then?  I mean, we're a long way from the Elmekian Empire."

"Not a clue."  Gourry shook his head.  "The last time I saw it, it was hanging over the mantle in my mother's sitting room."  He had believed that the only things still surviving from Gabriev Keep were himself and the Sword of Light.  Unconsciously he clenched his hands into fists.  Now that the Sword was gone, the list shrank to just him . . . and this tapestry.

"Well, I don't think we'll be able to figure it out right now.  Maybe everything will make more sense after a decent meal." 

"Which 'everything' did you have in mind?"

"There are a lot of them, aren't there," Lina replied with a chuckle that held no mirth as she started ticking items off on her fingers.  "Why did Deremar's niece get murdered, why did they try to frame us for it, and now, why is a personal tapestry from the Elmekian Empire all the way down here?"

Gourry shrugged, his attention still focused mainly on the tapestry.  "You're the one who loves mysteries."  Lina didn't respond to that, and after a moment, he looked up to see that she was staring at him with a weird expression on her face.  "What?"

"I'll never understand," Lina replied slowly, "how you can remember such minor and unimportant details years later, but can't remember the name of someone who almost killed us a month earlier."

"There's no mystery there."  Gourry put his arm around her.  "I remember what's important."

"Gourry, how is a minor comment I made at some point more important than Rezo trying to resurrect Shabranigdo?"

"Did he succeed?"

"You were there," she said accusingly as she sat up straight.

"Then I guess he didn't or we wouldn't be here now, having this conversation."  Gourry sighed.  "It's really simple, Lina.  Battles are in the past.  Won or lost, they're not all that important.  That's what you learn as a merc.  It's the people you meet, the friendships you make, those are the things that are important."  Gourry paused and looked Lina straight in the eye.  "You're important, Lina.  And that's what I remember."

*******************

Author's Notes:  Thanks to all the people who emailed me and sent me encouragement, especially Melodia.  Thanks also to Pogo for beta reading, and being my self-appointed task-mistress!  (It was Pogo who pointedly reminded me a few weeks back that it's been over three months since chapter 3.  The good news as that I'm already hard at work on chapter 5 . . . )


	5. Wounds of Healing

Flam Gush 5

"Wow," Gourry said in surprise.  "It's a lot bigger than I thought it would be."

The "it" in question was the town they saw from the rise in the path.  After polishing off the remains of the food Lina had pilfered from the village near Deremar's keep, they had decided to head over to the next village, get a decent meal, a decent room, replenish their supplies, and hopefully get some information.  They had simply followed the path from their campsite, which had shown very little evidence of use, leading them to believe that they were going to end up in another small village.  Neither "small" nor "village" were words that aptly described what they saw below them.

Clearly, they were approaching from an unusual direction.  The path was little more than a game trail, although Lina could tell that at some point in the past, it had led to a gate in the city walls below.  The gate had since been locked shut, and didn't look as if it had been used in years.  The town itself was rather large, and there was a good deal of traffic moving on the road on the other side, which looked to be the main entrance.

"You know what this means, right?"  Lina asked with a bright smile.  "We can finally get a real meal!  C'mon!"

They both broke into a run, but it still took a good twenty minutes until they reached the unused gate.  

Gourry pounded on the wooden doors with the hilt of his sword, although neither of them was very optimistic about it producing any results.  After a few moments of nothing happening, he leaned against the stone wall.  "How long do you think it'll take to get around to the main gate?"

"Who said anything about going around?" Lina asked innocently.

"It's really a nice day for a walk," Gourry suggested nervously as he edged away from her, "and I'm really not all that hungry just yet . . ."

"Levitation!"  Lina floated over to Gourry with a wicked gleam in her eye.

"Hold on, Lina, can't we talk about this?  I'm sure it's not too far to just walk—"

Lina interrupted him with a firm kiss, placing her arms lightly over his shoulders.  He tried to resist her at first, but only half-heartedly.  It really was quite pleasant to kiss him like this, floating just at his level.  She didn't have to crane her neck up at a crazy angle, and Gourry didn't have to stoop down.  Her initial plan had been to lull him with the kiss, and then levitate him over before he could protest.  She changed her mind however, when something occurred to her.  She had always just carried Gourry—or he had clung to her—but she had never actually tried to levitate the two of them specifically, just herself and the extra weight.  The idea had a great deal of appeal, but if she wanted to try it, she'd better do it soon.  Their kiss was getting increasingly less chaste by the moment, and she might not be able to split her attention if this kept up.

Levitation was really just a matter of manipulating the air around her, making it support her weight.  Now, she focused, trying to get the air to support Gourry as well, so that he could feel the same way she felt:  buoyant and supported, rather than a dead weight only held up by the strength of a grip.  

It took a bit more concentration than normal, but it seemed to be working.  She broke off the kiss, opening her eyes to check on their progress.  They were actually quite a bit higher than she had thought, and she focused on getting them lower before Gourry looked down. 

No sooner had she thought it, she could feel him tense up.  Lina wrapped her arms around him, noting absently that it was a great deal less comfortable to do when he was wearing his armor.  "Trust me," she said softly.

She sensed more than saw his nod of assent, albeit after a rather lengthy pause.  At least he didn't seem to be panicking.  Just as his feet touched the ground, she looked up into his eyes, and at that moment, she had the strangest sense of déjà vu.

"Lina."  Gourry took a deep breath, and then he grimaced.  "How come you never did it that way before?"

"I never thought to do it that way before," she replied with a shrug as she released her hold on him.  "I wasn't even going to do it this time, but the idea just suddenly came to me, and I thought I'd try it out.  How did it feel?"

"Weird."

"Weird," Lina repeated in a flat tone after a brief pause.  "I should've known better than to ask Jellyfish here to comment on a spell variation I came up with _specifically_ for him . . ."

"Okay," Gourry interrupted, "It felt different, kinda like floating . . . and kinda familiar too . . ."

"You thought so too?"  Lina was about to ask him how it felt familiar, but she never got the chance.  Just then a figure burst from the shadows, bumping into her.  She staggered backwards, hissing as she felt a slice of fire run from her waist to her ribs.  The pain was accompanied by a wet tearing sound and then jingling as her purse hit the ground.  Lina had barely time to realize what was happening when the dark figure scooped up her purse and stared fleeing up the deserted street.  Without pausing to think, she chased after him.

Whoever the thief was, he was fast, and he also had the advantage of knowing the terrain.  She could hear Gourry running just behind her and the steely hiss of his sword being drawn out of its scabbard.  The thief ducked into a side alley with a burst of speed, and Lina just barely made the turn after him.  She pressed her hand against her side as she did, trying to ignore the burning.  

She could see him just ahead of her, but Lina wasn't sure how much longer she could keep up the pace.  Already she was starting to feel lightheaded and just a touch nauseous.  Not enough to deter her from reclaiming her stolen property, but it was significant enough to distract her, ever so minutely, from the pursuit.  Lina sped up and launched herself at the thief in a flying tackle aimed at his knees.  She managed to catch him, but as they both fell to the ground, his boots kicked her in the gut.  It was too much, given the fact that she was already feeling on the queasy side, and Lina felt her meager breakfast coming back up, all over the would-be thief's backside.  

"That's original," Gourry commented mildly as he retrieved Lina's stolen purse from a rather green-looking young man.

"Shut up," Lina replied weakly while she focused on suppressing the urge to retch again.  She crawled away, trying to put some distance between her nose and the sharp acid smell that permeated the alley.  It was part urine and part rotting garbage, overlaid with the tang of her vomit.  Despite the fact that she was on her knees, she felt decidedly woozy, but also like she wasn't getting enough air.

She tried to stand up, in an effort to get away from the disgusting smell of the alley, but her legs just refused to obey her commands.  She could just barely hear Gourry calling her name over the ringing in her ears, and as she looked up, everything around her went black.  Her last thought was overwhelming annoyance that anyone would ever see her like this.

*******************

Gourry watched Lina crawl away from the thief with a growing sense of alarm.  She was moving sort of aimlessly, and despite the fact that she was already on her hands and knees, she looked like she was about to keel over any moment.

The thief behind him started muttering about his rotten luck and pulled out a rag to wipe the worst of Lina's mess off his pants.  He finished just as she collapsed, and he hurled the rag at her.  "Enjoy the smell, bitch, for what little time you have left," he spat out in a voice tinged with both disgust and satisfaction.

Within a heartbeat, Gourry had his sword leveled at the boy's throat.

"Man, you don't have time for heroics."  The thief stood very still, but if he was afraid, he masked it well.  "She won't last long unless you get her to a healer soon."  Then he snickered.

Gourry risked a quick glance at Lina and concluded that the boy was right.  Her color was very bad, almost ashen grey, and her breathing was shallow and fast.  There was also a dark crimson stain, barely visible, spreading across her tunic.  Before the boy could move, Gourry returned his attention to him.  "What did you do to Lina?"  He demanded in a very quiet voice that promised violent retribution.

For the first time since his capture, the boy blanched, looking decidedly unsure of himself.  "You wanna stand here jabbering away while she dies?"  He asked in a voice that was going for nonchalant bravado but wavered towards panic when he felt the cool steel of Gourry's sword kiss his throat.

"If she dies," Gourry stated in that same quiet voice, "I promise your life won't be worth living."  He pressed his sword in closer, drawing blood, and he had the satisfaction of seeing the kid wet his pants.  With that, he lowered his sword and moved over to pick up Lina.  She was cold and clammy to the touch, a fact that concerned Gourry far more than if she had a fever.  He picked her up gently, cradling her in his arms.  He spared a glance at the kid he had humiliated—no danger there, he was still cowering against the wall—and started moving quickly towards the center of town.

With each labored breath Lina took, Gourry tried not to panic.  As long as she was breathing, there was still time.  But, he had only a vague idea of what was wrong with her, and he had absolutely no idea where to find the nearest healer, or any healer for that matter.  Between watching his footing and monitoring Lina's condition, he kept his eyes peeled for a temple or an apothecary, or just someone to provide directions.  They seemed to be in a deserted section of the town, which would explain why a thief was bold enough to attack them in the middle of the day, but did nothing to help the current situation.

Gourry stopped walking for a moment and stood quietly, cradling Lina.  He closed his eyes.  They weren't helping at the moment, because all he could see was empty buildings and empty streets.  This side may be deserted, but at some point, that should change.  They had seen all the traffic entering through the main gate, which meant that this town still had life in it.  He just had to find it.  So he used his other senses.  He listened for sounds of activity.  For horses drawing carts over cobblestone streets.  For people chattering as they went about their business.  He sniffed the air for any smell that would indicate human habitation, whether it was freshly baked bread or fresh garbage, anything different from the stale smell that just barely clung to the abandoned buildings around him.  Within moments, he knew which direction he needed to go.  

"Hold on, Lina," he murmured into her hair.  "Just hold on a little bit longer."

Sooner than he dared to hope, Gourry emerged from a cramped and narrow alley and into a bright square bustling with people and activity.  He walked up to the first vendor he saw, a young man about his age hawking a bright assortment of silk scarves tied to a long stick.  "Excuse me, but I'm looking for a healer."

The scarf vendor glanced up at Gourry and then his gaze shifted to Lina.  His expression went ashen, and he stretched out his hand to tenderly stroke Lina's hair.  "Lina?"  He whispered.

"She needs help now," Gourry grated out, his voice sounding harsh and unnatural to his ears, as he tried to quell a surge of jealousy.  Such things could wait until he knew Lina would be safe.

Without hesitation, the young man looked up at Gourry, his eyes shadowed with worry and something else that Gourry couldn't read.  "Follow me," he said shortly.  "Hurry!"

Jealousy aside, Gourry felt that he could trust the young man, so he followed him across the square and into another alley that wasn't quite as dark and dirty than the one he had just left.  Part of him wanted to demand answers.  How did this stranger know Lina?  The other part was grateful that he had found help so quickly.

About halfway up the alley, Gourry's guide turned and bounded up a short flight of stairs and flung open the door to a modest looking apartment.  Although from the outside, there was nothing to distinguish it from any of the other apartments that line the alley, once the door was open, the sharp smell of herbs indicated that they were in the right place.

"Shella!"  He shouted.  "Siebert!"

A young girl who was intently focused on whatever she was grinding with her mortar and pestle looked up in shock when they burst through her door.  "Ryan?"

"Shella, hurry!"  Ryan gestured at Lina.  "Get your Da!"

Shella took one look at Lina and she rushed off into the back rooms.  Ryan glanced over his shoulder at Gourry.  "This way," he said tersely, and he led Gourry into a small clean room with a simple cot in the middle.

While Gourry laid Lina on the cot, Ryan started pulling out assorted jars from a small cupboard at the side of the room.  He then darted out of the room, muttering under his breath.  Gourry wasn't sure what to do, so he knelt by Lina's side and grasped her hand, which was ice cold.  Her lips were turning blue, and she was still breathing shallowly.  Every so often she would start to gasp, like a fish out of water, but then her breathing would go back to its previous state.  

"What happened to her?"  Gourry looked up to see an older man standing in the doorway to the room.  He was heavyset, with light brown hair just beginning to grey at the temples.  He quickly walked over to Lina, glancing at the gaping wound in her side.  "Ryan," he bellowed in a deep voice, "get me that water now!"  He sniffed Lina's breath, and laid his ear over her chest.  After his initial examination, he looked directly at Gourry.  "My name's Siebert, and I'm a healer.  Can you tell me what happened?"

"She was attacked by a cutpurse," Gourry said shortly.  

"Tell me everything."  Siebert's brow furrowed and he laid his fingers gently on Lina's throat.  "Don't leave anything out, no matter how small the detail seems."  

As clearly as he could remember, Gourry related the sequence of events, describing Lina's chase after the thief and how she had finally caught him.  He had just finished when Ryan rushed back into the room, carrying a water pitcher and a basin.  The older man started to wash his hands while Ryan held the basin.  "Did she cast recovery at all?"

Gourry shook his head.  "No, I don't think so."

"Are you sure?"  Siebert finished his ablutions, and quickly coated his hands with something that looked oily and red.  

"Yeah."  Gourry thought back.  "She didn't have time.  Right after the cutpurse attacked, she chased after him.  I'm sure she didn't cast any spells.  Why?"

The healer heaved a sigh of relief, but he didn't answer Gourry's question right away.  "Ryan, go tell Shella I need her, and get me some crushed burago flowers."  When Ryan just stood there, his mouth agape, the old man barked out, "Don't just stand there!  Get to it!"

As Ryan scurried off, Gourry caught the look of panic on his face.  "What are burago flowers?"  He demanded.  "What's going on?"

"Burago's a diaphoretic," Siebert responded curtly.  "She's been poisoned, and probably worse."

"Worse?"  Gourry echoed, clenching his hands into fists.  He had let that kid off way too easily.  "Will she be okay?"

"I'm working on it, kid," he replied with a sigh as he poured some liquid into a cup.  "Shella," he shouted just as the girl from earlier rushed into the room.  "Good, wash up, and start cleansing that wound.  Use the drosera tincture.  Have him help you," he jutted his chin out at Gourry. 

"Sir?"  The girl, Shella, brought the basin of water over to Gourry.  "If you could please wash your hands, sir?"  She asked politely.  

Gourry shook his head, dismissing thoughts of the thief and retribution.  Right now, if there was anything he could do to help Lina, well, it was better than just sitting there, waiting for her to draw her next breath.  He washed his hands, following Shella's instructions and carefully cleaning under his nails.  He had just started rubbing on the oily red stuff when Ryan appeared with the floretic Siebert had asked for.

While Ryan and Siebert worked on getting Lina to drink something, Gourry helped Shella.  They ended up cutting away Lina's tunic, and Gourry was shocked to see the angry red lines spreading out from the wound.  Shella placed a few drops of liquid from a dark blue vial into a water basin, and then she carefully sponged the wound with a soft cloth.  She had Gourry fetch clean water several times and carefully mix in more liquid from the same blue vial before she had cleaned the wound to her satisfaction.  The old healer investigated their handiwork, and then packed the wound with a poultice and bandaged Lina up.

"Now, we let her rest," Siebert sighed, "and hope for the best."

Lina was breathing a bit easier, and now, instead of looking ashen, she was flushed with a fever.  Gourry pulled a stool over to sit next to her, determined to keep vigil by her side.  He looked at his hands, still stained with the red oil he had coated them with.  Shella had told him it was to prevent the spread of infection.  

"Sir?"  Shella cautiously poked her head in the room.  "Are you hungry?  I brought you some food.  It's not much, but . . ."

"Thanks."  Gourry waved her in, and took the bowl of stew she offered him.  He wasn't really all that hungry, but he ate anyway.  "Thanks," he repeated as he handed her the empty bowl.  Now that the situation wasn't so dire, Gourry took a good look at Shella.  His initial impression had been that she was young, maybe no more than eight, and that she bore an uncanny resemblance to Lina.  She had the same fiery red hair, and even the shape of her face was similar.  The main difference was that Shella's eyes were bright jade-green.  He realized now that she was older than eight.  Twelve was probably closer.  She carried herself with the maturity and assurance of someone who had just recently crossed the threshold from child to adult.

"Da said we have to give your wife more medicine every hour."  She smiled up at Gourry.  "He was real impressed by the way you helped out, and he said I could show you how to give her the medicine if you want."

Gourry had been about to correct her and tell her that Lina wasn't his wife, but Shella launched into an explanation that involved sucking medicine up to a line marked on a glass tube, and then slowly dripping it into Lina's mouth.  She quizzed him several times to make sure he understood the procedure, and then she supervised him while he administered the medicine.  As she left the room, she promised to check on them in an hour, and Gourry was once more alone with Lina and his thoughts.

The next days blurred into a steady routine.  Give Lina her medicine, sponge her to try and bring her fever down, change her bandages and watch for any number of signs that would indicate she had taken a turn for the better, or for the worse.  Gourry lost track of time, and he completely ignored his own needs to take care of Lina.  Shella and Siebert had to force him to eat or rest, but the food was tasteless and his sleep was fitful.  He should have known Lina had been injured.  He was supposed to be her protector, but he couldn't even keep her safe from some two-bit thief.  Gourry had never hunted down anyone before.  He had never targeted someone for revenge.  But watching Lina waste away before his eyes made him remember his promise to the cutpurse.  Finally, Siebert decided to try a different remedy that involved old cheese, and within a day, Lina's fever broke.

*******************

She was itchy, and it was driving her nuts.  From the top of her scalp to the tips of her toes, she felt like she was in desperate need of a bath.  And what was that taste in her mouth?  It was like moldy bread, and it made her want to retch.  Lina cautiously opened her eyes.  It was dark, save for one guttering candle that cast strange shadows across the room and reinforced her urge to vomit.  She quickly closed her eyes.  Considering that every muscle in her body was protesting and she hadn't even tried to move yet, it would probably be better if the contents of her stomach remained where they were for the time being.  All in all, she felt quite wretched, and she thought back, trying to remember where she was, and more importantly, why she was there.  

"Lina?"  A vaguely familiar voice gently spoke her name.  "How do you feel?"

"Gourry?"  No, that wasn't right.  The voice didn't belong to Gourry.  Who was it then?  "Where's Gourry?"  Lina tried not to panic.  She didn't know where she was, but shouldn't Gourry be right next to her?  Wasn't that the way things were supposed to work?  She struggled to sit up.  Maybe then things would make more sense.

Gentle hands restrained her.  "Ssshh," the familiar voice hushed her.  "He's sleeping.  He hasn't gotten much over the past few days."  

Lina stopped struggling.  Even the little effort she had put forth exhausted her, and she felt everything around her go fuzzy again.  

"Rest, Lina," the voice soothed, as a hand gently caressed her cheek, and ran fingers over her lips.  Lina had already faded back to sleep.  

But Gourry, who had awoken the minute she had called his name, saw everything.

*******************

"Gourry?"

Lina felt his hand holding hers, and it dispelled the remnants of her dream.  She opened her eyes to a simple room.  It was sparsely furnished, but it was clean, and the sun gleamed off the whitewashed walls.  She was lying on a spartan cot that was just barely wide enough for her body.  There was a dark wooden cupboard on one of the walls, and a rather comfortable looking chair was pulled up next to her cot.  Gourry, not surprisingly, was sprawled out in it.  What did surprise her was the way he looked.  His eyes had dark circles underneath them, and his face was rather gaunt, at least the part of it that wasn't concealed by golden bristles.  She wrinkled her nose and reached her hand out to stroke his cheek.  "You look like hell," she said blandly.  "Except for this," she added as her fingers brushed across the full beard he had somehow grown.

"Lina," he choked on her name, as if he hadn't spoken in quite a while, but he leaned into her caress, cupping her hand in his.

A welter of questions passed through her mind, but before Lina could decide which one to ask, her stomach grumbled rather insistently.  "Ow.  When was the last time I ate?"  

"Honestly?" Gourry hiccoughed, looking like he couldn't decide whether to laugh or to cry, or to do both at the same time.  "I don't know.  I lost track after the first day or so."  He smoothed her hair away from her face and bent down to kiss her forehead.  "I'm really glad you're feeling better," he whispered.

Before Lina could think of an appropriate response, the door to the room opened, and a young girl, who looked about twelve or so, poked her head in.  Lina stared in shock at the girl who could have been her younger sister, but the other girl didn't seem to notice.  "Miss Lina!"  She exclaimed in delight.  "You're awake!"  She turned her head to shout over her shoulder, "Da!  Miss Lina's awake!"  

As the girl entered the room Lina heard the sounds of heavy footsteps approaching rather quickly, and soon an older man bustled in and over to the bed.  "How do you feel?"  He laid a professional hand on her forehead.

"Hungry," Lina responded without hesitation.  "And I could really use a bath," she added as an afterthought.

"Hungry, hmm?  Well that's a good sign.  Shella, get me some fresh water, and then why don't you make some rice porridge.  We'll start her out simple."  

"What happened to me?  Where am I?"  Now that she knew food was coming, all the other questions Lina had started tumbling out.  "Gourry, did you get my money back?"

"Yes, Lina," Gourry said with a grimace and a sigh.  "I got your money back."  He started muttering under his breath, but Lina couldn't hear what he was saying.  She was just about to demand that he speak up when Shella returned with the water, and the old healer handed her a cup full of liquid.

"Here, drink this," he ordered in a tone that brooked no disagreement as he turned to wash his hands.

Lina lifted the cup to her mouth, and it took all her self-control not to spit the liquid out after the first sip.  "What're you giving me, old man?"  She demanded.  "This tastes like moldy cheese!"

"Is that what it tastes like?"  He replied mildly.  

"It's gross," Lina said flatly as she tried to hand him back the cup.

"Gross or no," he responded in the same mild tone, "it saved your life, so I suggest you stop complaining.  The faster you drink it, the sooner it'll be gone."

"You sound like my sister," Lina muttered under her breath, but she complied and drank down the rest of the cup, trying really hard to ignore the taste.  

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Why don't you drink it next time then," Lina asked sourly.  She hated being patronized.

The old healer knelt down beside her cot, ignoring her last question, and he began to untie the bandages around her midriff.  "To answer your questions, you are in the home of Siebert the healer, which is me," he added with a smile.  "And you are very lucky to be here.  You had the great misfortune to be knifed by one of the less savory groups of thieves who happen to coat their blades with poison after dipping them in the middens.  Very few people survive such an attack, young lady."

"How long have I been out, then?"  Lina asked, trying not to think of all the rotting garbage and human refuse that typically went into the middens.

"Five days.  It looks like your wound is finally starting to heal."  He replaced her bandages, and then took a deep breath.  "Now," he said in a serious tone, quite the contrast from the light banter of his earlier words, "I presume that you are a sorceress, correct?"

Normally, Lina would have made a sarcastic comment, but this time she held her tongue, simply nodding at his question.

"I thought as much," Siebert replied.  "Do you know the recovery spell?"  After Lina nodded again, he continued.  "I need you to promise me that you won't use it until I say."

"Why?"  Lina had heard of rivalry between herbal healers and those who used magic, but this was ridiculous.

"Right now, the infection within you is dying, but it is still fighting for life.  If you cast recovery, you would heal your wound, but you would also strengthen the infection."  He paused and fixed Lina with a stern look.  "Do you understand?"

"How long?"  Lina whispered.

"Two more days," he responded after a moment of thought.  Then he held up a cautionary hand.  "As long as you rest and follow all my instructions to the letter."

Two more days?  That would put the total at seven days.  She had never been out from a wound that long before.  Lina clenched her hands into fists.  It seemed like there were some bandits in this town who needed a proper introduction to Lina Inverse.

"Do I have your promise?"  Siebert's brown eyes bored into her, disrupting her thoughts of bandit hunting for the moment.

"Hunh?  Oh yeah," Lina mumbled absently.  Siebert's stared at her intently, and Lina resisted the urge to squirm.  She felt like an errant child being chastised.  "Don't worry, Pops, I don't have the energy to use my magic now, anyway."  Lina's stomach rumbled again at that moment, as if to add emphasis to her words.

Siebert nodded and stood up.  "Shella'll bring you some food soon."  

As the door to the room clicked shut, Lina shut her eyes, suddenly exhausted.  "Man, this really sucks," she muttered under her breath.  "Five days?  I don't think anyone has ever gotten me that good before."  

"Just once," Gourry said softly.  She could hear him moving out of his chair, and he knelt beside her cot, laying his head on her chest.  

"Once?"  Lina asked as she started running her fingers through his hair.  It was matted and tangled and smelled none too fresh that close to her nose, but she ignored that, just enjoying the feeling of having Gourry close to her.

"In Sairaag.  Sylphiel had to take you away to heal you."

"You mean the time with Eris' copy Rezo?"

"I guess."  Gourry lifted his head.  "That makes it three times too many that I've seen you almost die."

Lina started to laugh weakly, then clutched at her side in pain.

"What?"  Gourry glared at her.

"After all the dangerous situations we've been through in the past few years, after all the monsters and gods we've encountered and fought, and I've only almost died twice . . . well, that's not so bad, is it?"

Gourry continued to stare at her, his eyes flat.

"Although," Lina conceded, "considering that Shabranigdo himself couldn't kill me, it would be really humiliating if some petty little thief brought me down."  In her mind's eye, she saw the "Great Hero Valun" posing and declaring in a pompous tone, "Yeah, I took down this scrawny little kid in one blow.  Little did I realize she was the infamous Bandit Killer, Lina Inverse!"  

"Yipe!"  Gourry pulled back when Lina started to burn with fury.

"No way," Lina bared her teeth and growled.  "He's going down!"  Suddenly, her entire demeanor changed when she saw Shella standing in the doorway with a tray.  "Finally!  Food!"  She exclaimed clapping her hands in glee.

*******************

As happy as he was to see Lina recovering, there were several times over the next two days when Gourry fervently wished that she were still unconscious.  Saying that Lina was not a good patient was like saying that the Dragon Slave could do a little damage.  

First it was the food.  She wanted something more substantial than rice porridge, and she complained that they were giving her baby food.  And of course, she hated the medicine Siebert insisted that she take every four hours.  She argued with him for nearly an hour about how vile it tasted.  The only good thing about it was that after arguing so strenuously, she slept peacefully through the night, allowing Gourry to get the first good night's sleep he'd had in days. 

If he had thought the first day had been bad, the second was even worse.  When he woke up, he caught her trying to get out of bed.  She complained that she needed to use the necessary, so he pointed out that that was what the little bedpan was for.  Finally, Gourry had threatened to hold her down on the bed by force, and then she had pouted until breakfast arrived.  

After breakfast, she had questioned him relentlessly about what had happened after she passed out in the alley.  It seemed like no detail was too small for her, and she frequently got that burning look in her eyes.  At least it wasn't directed at him.  He sighed in obvious relief when Siebert came in to examine Lina, but his relief was short-lived because she had another huge argument with him about the medicine.  She understood that she had to take it; she just wanted him to come up with a way to make it taste like something besides moldy cheese.  Gourry wondered what she would have thought if she knew that the main ingredient in the medicine actually was moldy cheese, but he decided that if Siebert wasn't telling her, there was no reason for him to.

"I'm bored, bored, bored, bored, _bored_!"  She started fuming, about mid-afternoon.

Gourry suppressed yet another sigh, and leaned back in his chair crossing his arms across his chest.  "Ya know, Lina, sometimes you've just gotta take these things like a man." 

Lina spitefully stuck her tongue out at him.  "Well, I am _not_ a man!"

For which Gourry was eternally grateful, considering how much he enjoyed her as a woman.  "That's not what I meant," he murmured as he tried to avoid ogling her.  Somehow, he didn't think that would improve her mood.  "Look.  You just have to get through today, and then Siebert will probably let you cast recovery tomorrow, and you'll be fine."  /Please, please, please let her cast recovery tomorrow,/ he thought desperately to himself.  Lina was going stir-crazy, and she was taking him along for the ride.

Instead of continuing to rail at him, Lina started listing all the things she wanted to do.  Food and bath were pretty high on her list, but so was tracking down the guy who had knifed her.  Gourry half listened to her, while the rest of his attention wandered.  He actually had a pretty long list of things he wanted to do once she had healed as well.  Food and bath were also high on his list, along with a shave.  He scratched absently at the beard that had sprouted over the past few days.  He'd always shaved regularly, and now that he wasn't so worried about Lina, he kept getting distracted by how itchy it was. 

And then there was Ryan.  He had been in and out pretty consistently ever since he had led them here, but he hadn't made an appearance since Lina had woken up.  Although he seemed nice, and he certainly had helped them out, Gourry just did not like the man.  It was more than the way he looked at Lina so possessively.  There seemed to be something mercenary about him.  On the other hand, Shella positively doted on him every time he showed up, and he obviously had a great deal of affection for her, as well as a deep respect for Siebert.  Maybe it was just jealousy.  Whatever it was, Gourry didn't like it.  He didn't like the idea that he could develop such a strong antipathy to someone he didn't even really know.  But every time he tried to think of a reason to like Ryan, he remembered seeing him caress Lina in her sleep.  Somehow, that one gesture was irredeemable.  

Suddenly Gourry realized that Lina wasn't talking any more.  He glanced over at her and then looked at the water clock, suppressing a chuckle.  Well, if Lina thought she could avoid taking her medicine by feigning sleep . . .

Sure enough, the door opened and Siebert walked in carrying Lina's afternoon meal and medicine.  "Really, Lina, do you think I can't recognize someone feigning sleep?"

Lina cracked an eye open.  "It was worth a try," she groused.

"Well, I've considered all your most eloquent arguments, and I've added something which should help the taste."  Siebert handed her the mug.

"What is it?"  Lina looked at the mug suspiciously.

"Just try it," Siebert said innocently, "and tell me what you think."

Lina took the mug and sniffed.  "Mint, hunh?  Well, I guess it can't be worse, right?"  She took a cautious sip and grimaced, but then she quickly drained the cup.  "Ugh.  Too much mint, and now it has a bitter aftertaste."

"There's no pleasing you, is there Lina?"  Siebert winked at Gourry as Lina started shoveling down her food.  Gourry kept his face expressionless, but he wondered what the old healer was up to.

As soon as Lina finished eating, Siebert examined her.  Before he had finished, she was snoring.  The healer stood up and openly grinned.  "She should be able to use her magic tomorrow, as long as she gets a good night sleep."

"What'd you give her?"

"Just something to help her get a good night sleep," Siebert replied innocently, still grinning.  "She's not used to being so still is she?"

Gourry considered.  "I think it's more that she doesn't like feeling so helpless and dependent on others.  Her entire reputation is based on being strong and independent."  

"I've heard.  Some call her the 'Bandit Killer,' others the 'Enemy of All Who Live.'  Asleep, the descriptions didn't fit her.  But now that I've seen her temper . . ."  Siebert rolled his eyes.

"The first time I found out that she was famous, some guy called her 'Dragon-Spooker.'"  Gourry glanced over at Lina fondly.  "She nearly pulled the guy's beard out until he offered her money."

"I hadn't heard that one.  The only other ones I've heard are 'Dra-Mata' and 'Sorcery Genius'.  They don't say much about the blond swordsman who has accompanied her of late."  Siebert locked gazes with Gourry, all hint of casual joviality gone.  "Does she know who you are?"

Gourry shook his head in confusion.  

"You don't remember me, do you?"  Siebert broke eye contact with a sigh.  "Well, it has been quite a few years, and I have put on a great deal of weight since then," he said deprecatingly as he stroked a hand over his stomach.  "I wasn't sure it was you at first either," he continued.  "But then Shella showed me the tapestry she found when she was doing your laundry."

"How . . . When . . ."  It had been years since someone had recognized him, and that had been Sylphiel's father, a magistrate of an important city.  To have a healer in the middle of nowhere recognize him surprised Gourry, and he struggled to form a coherent question.  He took a deep breath. 

"So, does she know?"

"There's nothing to know," Gourry said softly.

Siebert closed his eyes in sorrow.  "I had hoped the rumors were just that," he said in a thick voice.  "Especially when I saw you here."

"How did you know about the tapestry?  How do you know me?"

"You might not remember . . . you were so young when it happened . . . An assassin tried to drown your mother in the bath.  I was the healer who nursed her back to health."

Gourry did remember.  Actually, he wished he could forget.  He had been the one who found his mother, held under the water and being throttled by the long braid of one of her maid servants.  He still remembered how her eyes had bulged out of their sockets and the trickle of blood floating out of her mouth.  He couldn't have been more than five or so.  They later told him that he had raised the alarm and when the guards had got to the bath, Gourry was latched onto the maid, biting at her arms.  His mother had stayed in bed for a very long time afterwards, but he didn't remember anything about her being sick.

Siebert continued without looking at Gourry.  "She talked a lot about wanting a tapestry of her two boys in her room where she could always see them."  He clenched his hands into fists.  "I recognized the device of your family, and your mother's particular style."  Siebert turned at looked at Gourry quizzically, cocking his head slightly to the side.  "You've got your father's build, but you've got her eyes."

It was shocking enough to meet someone who knew about him and his family.  Gourry wasn't quite sure how to deal with his growing suspicion that Siebert had been in love with his mother.  His sorrow seemed to run deeper than that of a healer who had learned that a former patient had passed on.  Gourry cast about desperately for something, anything, to change the subject.  Fortunately, Shella called out from the front room, and Siebert hastily excused himself.

Gourry sighed in relief as he stood up and stretched, working out kinks that had settled in from his long period of inactivity.  It certainly hadn't turned out the way they had expected, coming to this town.  It seemed like he had more questions than before.  Siebert's question in particular, about whether Lina knew who he was, bothered him.  He knew Lina, and she knew him, but he knew almost nothing about her past, and she seemed to know nothing about his.  He wondered about that.  How they could have been together for so long, and never exchanged histories.  Well, it wasn't so strange that he hadn't told her much.  Sometimes it was hard to get a word in edge-wise, and usually he didn't think much about what had happened before he had met her.  Still, he thought it was odd that even though Lina seemed to love the sound of her own voice, she almost never talked about her childhood.  

Well, tomorrow, after they went bandit hunting and Lina had a chance to blow off some steam, maybe he'd ask her.  He absently scratched at his beard, and then glanced over at Lina.  She was sleeping peacefully, and from what Siebert said, she wouldn't wake up until tomorrow.  Gourry decided that this would be a good time to find a bathhouse.  And once he felt human again, he could try to get some information about local bandits.  He nodded to himself.  It was certainly better than sitting around in the quiet with no company but his thoughts.  

----------------------------------------------------------

Author's notes:  Thanks go out again to Pogo for beta-reading, and for encouraging me to not let the story languish another 4 months before updating!  Hopefully, I'll be able to improve my update time.  At least for now, the story has grabbed hold of me, and I can't wait to see how it turns out.

Thanks also go out to Stara Maijka, for asking about Lina's reaction to Gourry's status.  I had honestly never considered how she'd react before.  The bit of Gourry's history in this part comes from me thinking about this aspect of the story.

All the remedies I mention are herbal remedies, well except for the moldy cheese, which would be penicillin—I guess fungus doesn't really count as an herbal remedy . . . 

Burago I adapted from borage, which is supposed to be good for fevers and for cleansing the bodies of toxins.  (A diaphoretic is something that makes you sweat, which explains why Lina felt so itchy!)

Drosera is the first half of the scientific name for sundew, which is supposed to have antibiotic properties.

Primrose tea is actually good for headaches.  I tested this out personally as my high school biology project.  What?  You didn't read about primrose tea?  My mistake.  The primrose tea turns up in the next chapter.


	6. Tea and Torture

Flam Gush 6

The light from the sun shone through the little window, casting shadows on the wall.  Lina watched as the shadows slowly shifted, waiting, for the moment at least, patiently for something to happen.  Although she was awake, she felt muzzy and abstracted.  She had noticed almost immediately that Gourry wasn't in her room, which bothered her, but she had a difficult time figuring out why.  All-in-all, it was easier to watch the shadows on the wall.  

As time went by, she grew a bit more lucid, at least enough to realize that it was not like her to calmly stare at shadows.  She shifted her attention to the chair next to her cot, and she was entranced by the complex patterns in the fabric.  Reds and blues swirled together and then apart, and then back together.  Her eyes traced each swirl as if she were watching some intricate dance performed by a skilled couple; if only there were music to accompany their dance.

When Shella came in to check on her before breakfast, Lina's attention had moved on from the chair, and she was holding a few strands of her hair in front of her face, twisting them this way and that.  If she held them one way, they looked red, but if she tilted them just a bit, they caught the light and looked gold instead.  

Shella was more than a bit startled to see Miss Lina acting this way, and she quietly left the room to get her Da, noting absently as she gently closed the door that Mr. Gourry wasn't in the room.

The quiet snick of the door closing caught Lina's attention next, and her brow furrowed in concentration.  Where was Gourry?  Maybe he was hiding from her?  Was she supposed to look for him?  Lina giggled at the thought of playing hide and seek like a little girl, and she pushed herself up out of the bed.  She was distracted by the wave of vertigo that passed over her, and she giggled again as she fell back down on the small cot.  It was more fun than a fair ride, she decided, so she sat up again to see if the feeling would happen again.  To her utter delight, it did, and she entertained herself by sitting up and collapsing onto her back a few more times before she remembered that she was supposed to be looking for Gourry.  The most logical place for him to be was under the cot, she decided after thinking about it a few moments, so she leaned forward to look underneath.  Unfortunately, she over-balanced and ended up plopping head first onto the floor.

By the time Siebert arrived, Lina had determined that Gourry was not actually under her cot, and she was crawling around the room alternately giggling and calling out for him.

"Is she okay, Da?"  Shella sounded as if she had some serious doubts at that point.

Siebert groaned.  "She's fine, Shella, but she's going to have a raging headache in about an hour.  Maybe less," he amended as Lina banged head first into a wall.

Lina looked up at the two of them and happily waved.  "I'm looking for Gourry!  Jellyfish's found a really good spot!"  Then she continued crawling around the room, first looking behind the curtains and then underneath the chair.

"What's wrong with her?"  Shella asked.  "She looks drunk or something."

"It's a rare side effect to the medicine I gave her last night.  She'll be fine, but we probably don't want her moving around too much before she's fully healed.  Go get some breakfast for her, and bring a fresh cup of primrose tea as well."  Siebert walked over to Lina and took her hand.  "How about if I help you look for Gourry?"  He asked as he helped her to stand and started steering her back to her cot.

Lina cocked her head and considered.  She was having a hard time finding him, but . . . "Wouldn't that be cheating?"

"Well, did Gourry say you couldn't ask for help?"  Siebert pointed out, as if this were a perfectly reasonable question.

"Ummm . . ."  Lina's brow furrowed in concentration.  Come to think of it, she couldn't remember Gourry saying anything about the rules of the game.  In fact she couldn't remember him saying anything about hiding, either.  She rubbed her forehead, trying to figure out why she was having so much trouble thinking straight.

"Here," Siebert helped her sit down on the cot, and pressed a warm mug into her hands.  "Drink this, and then you can eat your breakfast."

Lina looked at the mug suspiciously.  She had the strangest feeling that she wasn't going to like it, but she couldn't figure out why.  Suddenly it came to her.  "This isn't more of that vile tasting medicine, is it?"  

"No," Siebert replied calmly.  "It's to help your headache."

"But I don't have a headache," Lina protested as a spike of pain lanced through her left temple.  "Do I?"  

"If you don't yet, you probably will soon."

"Oh."  Lina lifted the mug to her lips, but she paused when she noticed the bowl Siebert was holding.  "Is that my breakfast?"  She asked hopefully.  Her stomach felt awfully empty.

"Drink the tea first," Siebert replied firmly, "and then you can have your breakfast."

Lina pouted, but she was starting to feel a bit tired, and protesting would probably take too much energy.  She sipped at the tea, surprised at its pleasant taste.  Once she finished, she started fishing for the flowers that were stuck at the bottom of the mug, but Siebert plucked the mug from her hands before she got a chance to get one.  He cut off her protest by handing her the bowl that had her breakfast and Lina happily shifted her attention to shoveling down the food.  She sighed contentedly when she finished and leaned back on her cot, closing her eyes.  

*******************

Gourry woke up with a headache.  Not the hangover type headache, but the "I've been hit upside the head with a frying pan" type headache.  He wasn't quite sure why he should have such a headache, because the last thing he remembered was relaxing in the public baths, having scrubbed himself clean and shaved off his accumulated stubble.  Maybe he had slipped on a bar of soap?  That would explain the headache, but it certainly didn't explain the surroundings.  Somehow, he had moved from a pleasant bathhouse to a rather unpleasant dank cell.  It must have been a relatively straightforward transfer, however, because all Gourry was wearing was a towel around his waist and a pair of manacles that led from his wrists to the wall.  A matching set were around his ankles, staking his legs to the floor.  All in all, it was a very unpleasant way to wake up.

"So, you're finally awake." 

Gourry looked up.  "Garik," he bit out.  Standing on the other side of the cell was a large burly man with a patch over his left eye.

Garik sketched a mocking bow.  "I am honored you remember me, Master Gourry."  Although the words were polite, his tone was scathing.

"How could I forget?"  Gourry growled.  He and Garik had served together in a mercenary army.  It was one of the first times Gourry had been away from home.  His parents had bought him a commission as a way to teach him leadership skills.  Although Gourry told no one of his parentage, Garik had resented the younger man, his position in the army, the easy camaraderie he enjoyed with his men, and most of all, his skill with the sword.

For his own part, Gourry hadn't like Garik.  He didn't like the way the older man worked his men so hard, and he especially didn't like Garik's attitude towards the camp followers.  He had a cruel streak, and he seemed to enjoy inflicting pain on others.

One day, Gourry had been out walking, and he came across Garik beating one of the camp followers.  Officially, these women cooked and washed clothes for the soldiers.  Unofficially, they also exchanged sexual favors for money.  Gourry didn't know what offense this woman had committed, but he also knew that he couldn't stand idly by and watch Garik brutalize her.  So he had intervened.  Both men had been spoiling for a fight.  Gourry had been stomaching various insults for months, ranging from slurs about his parentage to pointed comments about the "pretty little boy".  

The duel, if it could be called that, was over almost before Garik realized that the "pretty little boy", whose parents had bought his commission, fully deserved his position.  Defeat had not sat well with him, and as Gourry leaned over to help him up, Garik had flung a fistful of dust into his face and pulled out his boot-knife.  During the ensuing struggle, with Garik's blade inches from his throat, Gourry had gouged out Garik's left eye.  He still remembered how easy it had been, how he had just pressed with his thumb, trying to get leverage to keep the knife away from his throat.  He also recalled with distressing clarity the disgusting popping sound the eye had made when it came free of its socket, and how it had dangled momentarily, grazing Gourry's cheek.

"Well, it looks as though the years have treated you well, Gourry," Garik said with a sneer.  "Still the pretty little boy, it seems, although I've heard you're playing lap dog for a pretty little girl."  He clucked his tongue in mock concern.  "I also heard she got quite a nasty scratch."  He laughed without mirth.

"And I can see that you've moved up in the world, Garik.  Kidnapping, hunh?  What's wrong?  Did raping the camp followers lose its taste?  Or were you afraid of losing your other eye?"  Gourry couldn't resist the final dig, partly because Garik's over-use of the "pretty little" phrase was really annoying, but also because the fact that Garik knew so much about him and Lina made him distinctly uneasy.  Far more uneasy, in fact, than sitting half-naked in chains.

"Kidnapping," Garik protested, putting on a show of mock offense.  "No, I prefer to think of it as doing a public service."  He laughed again.  "I'm just helping to bring the murderer of Lady Lucilla to justice."  

Gourry stared at him blankly.  "Lady who?"  He masked his satisfaction at the look of raw frustration that flared across Garik's face.  There was nothing better to take the wind out of someone's sails than throwing an ignorant question at them.  

Garik chose not to answer his question, and instead directed his attention at the young man who had just entered the room.  "It's a pity that Deremar wants him alive," he sniffed, but it quickly turned into a snicker.  "Other than that, though he didn't specify what kind of condition to bring him back in.  You can do what you want with him, Zeil, just make sure you find out where the girl is."

"Sure thing," the young man replied as he sauntered into Gourry's view, swinging a key ring around one finger.  Gourry had no trouble recognizing him either:  it was the thief who had attacked Lina a week ago.  "I still think she's dead though.  Why else would he have been by himself?"

"It's quite fortunate for you," Garik replied evenly while backhanding Zeil across his face, "that I am not paying you to think.  I am paying you to act."  He strode over to the door, and then paused to glance back at Gourry.  "Enjoy his company, Gourry.  It's probably the last thing you'll ever enjoy."

It was Gourry's turn to not answer, but Garik didn't wait for one anyway.  Meanwhile, Zeil fished around in his clothes and pulled out a bundle of leather.  He unrolled it on the rude table just outside of Gourry's cell, to reveal a host of unwholesome looking implements.  The small iron tongs were the most innocuous looking items in the set.  There were also an assortment of hooks, saws, needles, pliers, and knives.  Zeil placed a couple of hooks in the brazier next to the table, and they immediately started to smoke, giving off the unpleasant aroma of burning flesh.  He inhaled the smoke with a sigh of pleasure, and then he turned and looked at Gourry.  "Don't worry, they'll be nice and clean, not like the knife I used on the girl.  They might be a little hot, though," he added with a giggle.  Then he pulled a whetstone out, and began honing the edge of one of the knives, singing a little tune softly to himself.

Gourry recognized the tune after the first verse.  It was the same as the song that Amelia and Lina had once sung together, thinking that it was some ultimate spell.  Watching the thief take care of his tools of torture while singing about a maiden's shy prayer for love made Gourry's blood run cold.  It was just sick.  And he had thought Garik was twisted.  This kid raised depraved to entirely new heights.  Or depths.  Whatever.

At the same time, he recognized that a lot of this extensive preparation was a show.  Torturers liked to drag out the anticipation, using the promise of pain to come as a form of torture itself.  Gourry refused to play along, so he closed his eyes, and tried to close his ears and nose, and focused on his plan of escape.  Garik was getting soft in the head if he thought he could hold Gourry so easily.  Once the kid entered the cell, this farce would be over.

When to door to the cell jangled open, Gourry was ready.  At least, he thought he was ready.  When he opened his eyes, he realized that he had been too quick to judge the levels of Zeil's depravity.  He was standing in the doorway to the cell, holding a red-hot hook in one hand.  That was expected.  What wasn't expected was the fact that the kid was stark naked and openly fondling himself with his free hand, while staring hungrily at Gourry's crotch.  

"Gonna have some fun now," he leered, as a thin line of drool ran down the corner of his mouth.  "Not so tough without your sword, are ya?"

So that's why they had staked out his legs like that.  It made sense now, Gourry realized as Zeil knelt between his knees and pulled the towel slowly away, making sure that it rubbed against him in a suggestive manner.  It took all of Gourry's self control not to flinch and give him any satisfaction.  When Zeil looked up at him, his eyes burning with lust, Gourry acted, using all his strength to pull at the chain attached to the wall.  As he expected, the pin popped free with an audible snap, and the chain smashed into Zeil's face, ripping his cheek and breaking his jaw.  

Zeil lurched forward in surprise, and Gourry hissed in pain as the hook bit low into his belly.  Thankfully, it hit higher than his groin area, but having Zeil collapsed between his legs was almost as bad.  Gourry grimaced in disgust and pushed him violently to the side.  Zeil started hissing and spitting while jabbing at him with the hook.  Gourry pulled his other arm free of the wall, but this time his opponent ducked when the chain came whistling towards his head.  He scuttled backwards out of the cell, and Gourry struggled to free his legs.  The iron bands around his ankles proved a bit sturdier, however, and he couldn't get the right leverage to pull them free.  

A sudden yell of triumph provided Gourry the split second he needed to duck the knife hurled at him, and it slammed into the wall behind him instead of into the side of his neck.  The fire of victory blazing in Zeil's eyes dimmed when his blade missed his target, and he started scrambling for another weapon.  He wasn't fast enough, however, and he glanced down in stupefied surprise at the hilt that stood quivering in his chest, and the knife he held fell from nerveless fingers as he slumped onto the table.  

Gourry heaved a sigh of relief, and then he started cursing under his breath.  The key that he needed to unlock the irons around his ankles was currently hanging on a thong around the kid's neck-on the other side of the room.  If only he had a bit more leverage, but his legs were spread at such an angle that maneuvering was incredibly difficult.  He had no idea how long he had until someone came to check on them, and he really wanted to be gone before that happened.  

Finally, Gourry struck on the idea of using the chains for extra leverage, and it didn't take long after that for him to pop the irons out of the floor.  He hesitated briefly before flipping the kid over to free the key he needed to rid himself of his manacles.  Just the thought of touching him gave Gourry the creeps.  He hesitated even longer, staring at the pile of clothes on the floor and considering his options; his own clothes were nowhere to be seen.  Not really surprising, actually.  Gourry thought they were probably exactly where he had left them:  neatly folded in a locker in a bathhouse; which meant he could retrieve his towel, or he could squeeze into the kid's clothes.  Neither option appealed, although the second was probably the wiser choice.  

With a sigh, Gourry picked up the pants that were probably going to be at least three sizes too small for him, and tried valiantly not to gag at the rank odor of stale sex and blood that permeated the clothes.  It took a bit of judicious slicing of seams, and Gourry figured he probably looked like some poor beggar, but at least he was marginally decent.  Too bad he couldn't cram his feet into the boots, but he supposed it could be worse.  He had a hard time figuring out how it could be worse, particularly as he cringed away from the damp spot in the crotch of his newly acquired pants, but at least he was armed.  Now, he just needed to figure out how to get from here back to Lina, preferably without leading a bunch of thieves employed by an unscrupulous bounty hunter straight to her.

*******************

There were voices whispering off to the side.  She could easily hear the hissing sibilance, but she couldn't make out what they were saying.  If they were going to wake her up with their conversation, the least they could do is let her hear what they were saying, Lina thought with annoyance.  She opened her eyes and turned her head in the direction of the voices, ready to chastise them for disturbing her sleep.  All such thoughts fled from her head when she saw who was talking.  Siebert and Shella she expected.  The other person, though, it couldn't be him, could it?  She closed her eyes, and then opened them again.  She swallowed hard, and then licked lips suddenly gone dry.  

Well this was just peachy, wasn't it?  She was acting like a little girl, really this was just unacceptable.  It just would not do for anyone to know that this was getting to her.  After all, it had been so long ago, they had just been children, right?  Lina quietly took a deep breath, steeling herself to act normally.  "Do you guys absolutely have to have a whispered conversation in here?  People _were_ trying to sleep, you know."  There.  That sounded like her.  If her voice was a bit brittle, well, no one would know but her, right?

She had the satisfaction of seeing them jump guiltily, and then Ryan turned to look at her.  She avoided his gaze as she sat up to look around the room.  "Where's Gourry?" she asked, genuinely surprised not to see him.  She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead, trying to rid herself of the residue of a headache she didn't remember having.

Siebert moved to the side of her cot.  "Still have a headache?" he asked as he placed his fingers lightly on her temples.  

Lina shook her head.  "No, it's mostly gone.  Where's Gourry?"  She stifled her growing sense of panic.  Something was wrong with Gourry, and there was Ryan, looking at her like . . . No.  She shook her head again.  She refused to think about it right now.

"He went out for a bath."  Siebert looked at her with a smile that was supposed to be reassuring, but it didn't quite reach to his eyes, which only increased her concern.

"Oh," Lina replied, smiling back.  Hopefully hers was more convincing than his.

It seemed to satisfy him, because he shooed Shella and Ryan out of the room and started what Lina fervently hoped would be her final exam.

"Well," she asked when he leaned back, "can I use my magic now?"

"Hmm?"  Siebert seemed quite distracted, but Lina let it pass.  "Oh yes.  Go ahead."  He went over to wash his hands, and then he waited expectantly for her to cast the spell.

Lina had hoped he would give her some privacy, but as it seemed that he was settling in, she shrugged and immersed herself in summoning forth the magical power to heal the remnants of her wound.  She could feel the energy heeding her will, as well as the slightly itchy sensation of injured flesh knitting back together.  When she released the spell and opened her eyes, Siebert was standing right next to her.

"May I?"  He asked.  After Lina nodded permission, he traced a line from her ribs down across her midriff.  There was only a faint pink line to indicate that she had ever been injured.  He nodded to himself.  "It looks good, but we should probably keep you monitored for any sign of further infection."

"It'll take a while for the infection to come back, if it does at all, right?"

"Probably at least a day or so," Siebert conceded.  "Why?"

Lina pointed at her lank hair.  "I _really_ want a bath.  I itch from head to toe, and I could use a good soak."  She smiled winsomely.  "It'll give me something to do until Gourry comes back.  That way I won't be bored sitting around waiting for him."  She knew she hadn't been the model patient over the past two days, and she was hoping that the oblique reference to that fact would give her the leverage she needed to make her getaway.  She was certain they were hiding something about Gourry from her, and although she couldn't explain it, she kept having the nagging sensation that he was in trouble.  

"Well, I suppose I could have Shella heat some water for you," he mused while rubbing absently at his chin.  "But, it would probably be better for you to go to one of the public baths," he said with a smile.  "You'll get a better soak, and the exercise will do you good.  Just don't overdo it, okay?"

Lina smiled in genuine relief.  "I won't," she promised.  Of course, her idea of "overdoing it" and his were probably dramatically different, but that was okay.  What Siebert didn't know wouldn't hurt him.  At least she wouldn't have to sneak out through the window.

As soon as Siebert left the room, she started her preparations.  She stashed Gourry's sword in a fold of her cloak.  It took quite a bit of on-the-spot jury rigging to get it to stay while looking unobtrusive, but she had a feeling he was going to need it.  It was a shame she couldn't sneak out his armor as well, but that would probably be too obvious.  Her small dagger was secreted into her boot.  After all, no one would believe she was just going to take a bath if she came out armed to the teeth.  The last thing that Lina debated over was what to do with her shirt.  She had a grand total of two shirts left:  the tunic she had washed in the inn back in Deremar's village, and the torn dirty one she was wearing now.  She couldn't exactly go about in a torn tunic, but she didn't really want to put the clean one on either, because she really did intend to take a bath soon, and she wanted clean clothes when she got out.  Finally, she took off the torn tunic, and using her dagger, she sliced off the ragged bottom edge, and then put it back on.  It left her midriff bare, but it did satisfy the demands of modesty.  Naga had run around in far less clothes than this, and if she fastened her cloak just a bit differently, no one would notice her cropped top.

Satisfied that she was ready, Lina picked up a small sack holding her clean clothes and some toiletries.  When she opened the door of her sick room, she was startled to see Ryan leaning against the wall opposite her, his arms folded across his chest.  He was obviously waiting for her.

"Siebert asked me to show you to the closest bath," he said by way of explanation.

"That was nice of him," Lina replied.  She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes.  She didn't have time, or the energy to deal with demons from her past, and she was more than a little bit afraid of what she might see in his eyes.  She was even more afraid of what he might see in hers.  "Let's go.  I'm dying to get clean."  She started walking down the hall, cursing her heart as a traitor for thumping so loudly in her chest.  

"Lina?"  Ryan's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"What?"

"The door out is this way," he replied, pointing the other way.

"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?"  Lina demanded in righteous indignation.  She held on to that particular feeling as strongly as she could.  It kept her from feeling other things she had no desire to feel at the moment.

"You haven't changed a bit," Ryan replied ruefully.  "Still as pig-headed as ever, I see."

"Right now, I feel like a pig."  Lina retorted, tossing her lank hair.  "I probably smell like a pig, too."  She started down the hallway in the direction he had indicated.  "Are you going to show me to the baths or aren't you?"  When Ryan made no move to follow her, she glared at him.  "Fine, I'll find my own way."

"You're going after him aren't you?"

Lina turned around slowly.  "Who, Gourry?"  She shrugged in calculated nonchalance.  "I'm sure Jellyfish'll find his own way back eventually."

"I thought as much," Ryan snorted.  "Don't lie to me, Lina.  You may have been able to fool Siebert, but he doesn't know you nearly as well as I do."

"Fine," Lina grated out through clenched teeth, "I won't lie to you."  She turned and started walking down the hall again.  Ryan had always been able to see right through her, a fact that had annoyed her to no end.

"Wait."  Ryan grabbed her arm, turning her to face him.  "If he is in trouble, what do you think you can do to help him?" he demanded intently.  "You're just one girl, and you've been flat on your back for seven days.  Do you really think you can help him if he can't help himself?"

"Ryan, let me go," Lina said simply.

In response, Ryan tightened his grip on her arm.  Lina slumped against him, seemingly capitulating, and his grip relaxed.  Lina slumped down even further, surreptitiously drawing her dagger from her boot.  Before Ryan could react, she straightened, holding the blade at his throat.  Ryan stared at her, his face white.  "I'm not the defenseless little girl anymore, Ryan."  Lina said calmly, lowering her dagger.  "I haven't needed you or Sis to protect me for a long time now."  She tucked her dagger back in its hiding place in her boot and stepped away from Ryan.  "Now, you can show me to the baths or not, as you choose.  But don't make the mistake of thinking you can tell me what to do."  She paused, and then added a bit wistfully, "That part of our lives ended years ago."

Ryan continued to stare at her, and Lina was surprised at what she saw in his face.  Shock was foremost, but underneath it, she saw regret and deep concern for her.  Finally, he looked away.  "I'll take you to the baths Siebert sent him to last night.  After that . . ." Ryan shrugged.

Lina wasn't sure if she should be relieved or not, but she nodded her acknowledgement, gesturing to him to lead the way.  

It didn't take long to get from Siebert's apartments to the nearby public bath.  It was a small family establishment, and the hostess clearly remembered Gourry.  In fact, at the end of the evening, when they were closing up, she had realized that he hadn't left, so she had sent her eldest son to check on him.  He hadn't found Gourry, just a blood-smeared rock and his clothes neatly folded in a locker.  The family had notified the constable first thing in the morning, but beyond that, there hadn't been much else they could do.  They didn't even know Gourry's name or where he was from.

As she stared at the rock stained with Gourry's blood, a cold fury settled over Lina.  She didn't even notice Ryan nervously expand the distance between them.  When she asked the hostess for permission to search the room, the matronly woman pointed the way and sighed in obvious relief when Lina closed the door behind her.  

Lina went through the motions of searching the room, but she didn't expect to find anything.  She kept turning the rock over in her hand.  Someone had left this here on purpose.  There were no other signs of violence in the room, save for this rock, so it must be a message of some sort.  The only problem was that Lina wasn't sure how to break the code.  She snarled in frustration as she paced the room.  She could feel that Gourry wasn't safe, but she couldn't help him.  Ryan's questions echoed through her mind.  All the strength and magic in the world did her no good if she couldn't find Gourry.  Finally, she sat down on a low bench, and as she did, she bumped against Gourry's sword.  

Gourry's sword.  There was the niggle of an idea there, and Lina took a deep breath, trying to calm herself and tease it out.  She pulled the sword, still sheathed in its scabbard, out of her cloak and stood it in front of her, pushing the hilt from hand to hand.  As she did so, she remembered the time Sylphiel had divined their direction in Rezo's labyrinth.  Lina remembered being disappointed with how simple the procedure had seemed.  Sylphiel had said a short prayer for luck, and then she had let her rod fall to the ground.  Although Lina was no shrine maiden, not by any stretch of the imagination, she had the sudden notion that the same method might work for her now.  She certainly had no better idea at the moment, just a nagging feeling that her time was running out.

Lina stood, balancing Gourry's sword by just barely holding the tip of the pommel.  She focused all her energy on Gourry and the connection she believed was between them.  She had felt that he was in danger the moment she had woken up this morning, and she had been right.  If she knew that much, she had to be able to find out where he was.  A tingling sensation began to run up and down the arm that balanced Gourry's sword, and Lina gritted her teeth against the urge to jerk her hand away.  The sensation grew in intensity, and her entire arm started to feel as if it were asleep.  Finally, she could endure it no longer, and she pulled her hand away, letting the sword clatter to the floor.

It was a good thing Gourry wasn't here.  He would've chewed her out for abusing his sword like that.  But as Lina stared at the sword lying on the smooth wooden floor of the bath, she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was pointing her in the right direction.  She fixed the direction in her mind, and then scooped up the sword and burst out of the room at a run, ignoring the startled cries from Ryan and the hostess.  Without a backward glance, she Raywinged away, intent on finding Gourry and hoping that her instincts wouldn't lead her astray.

*******************

Gourry leaned against the wall of the stairwell, wondering how much further up he'd have to go.  It seemed like he'd been climbing stairs since he had left his cell behind.  For once, he was actually glad he didn't have his armor and boots.  It made it a great deal easier to sneak around, that was for certain.  So far he had only come across two other people.  The first one had been asleep at the door to the first set of stairs he had found.  Gourry had rapped him on the head to keep him asleep, and he had taken the man's sword, just in case.  The second had been a woman.  Gourry had been sneaking down a hallway, and she had suddenly opened the door he had been leaning on.  They had stared at each other for a brief moment of shocked surprise, and then she had hurled a throwing knife at him, just barely grazing his thigh.  Unfortunately for her, that left her unarmed, and Gourry neutralized her fairly easily, and without letting her raise the alarm.  Unfortunately for him, the knife had been poisoned, and he could feel the debilitating effects starting to spread through his system.

At least he hadn't been knifed as severely as Lina had.  He wasn't sure how much more time he had though, because he already felt just slightly off balance, and he was sure the nausea wouldn't be too far behind.  He could only hope that he could resist the poison until he got free of this warren of stairs and hallways.

Just as Gourry pushed himself off of the wall and started climbing up the flight of stairs in front of him, he heard an explosion and the sounds of people screaming.  He flattened himself against the wall when the door to the stairwell opened, and a panicked man started running down the stairs.  When he saw Gourry, he must have thought he was a fellow thief for he shouted out in warning, "Run for your life!  It's the Bandit-Killer!"

Gourry felt a surge of relief, and ignoring his dizziness, he ran up the stairs taking them two at a time.  Within moments, he heard Lina's voice alternately shouting out spells and calling for him.  He had no idea how she had found him, but at that moment, he didn't care.  "Lina!" he called as he staggered into a room that bore several scorch marks.  It was lucky for the bandits that there wasn't much combustible in their lair, except for the bandits themselves, Gourry amended to himself when he noticed the crumpled bodies strewn about the room.

"Gourry!"  Lina shouted, dropping the bandit she had been shaking and rushing over to him.  She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him fiercely.  "Where have you been?"  She demanded.

"Long story," Gourry grunted, as he shoved her to the ground.  They just narrowly avoided the knife hurled by the man Lina had been interrogating.  He rushed at them, brandishing another knife, but Lina cut him down with a flare arrow, and then looked at him in concern.  Gourry noticed that his hands were shaking, and try as he might, he couldn't stop them.

"Are you okay?"

"One of them got me," Gourry admitted, pointing to his thigh.  "It's just a scratch, but . . . this is the group that got you."

Lina swore softly under her breath.  "Watch my back," she commanded, and then she closed her eyes in concentration, chanting a spell under her breath.  As she finished, Gourry felt the dizziness recede, and his hands stopped shaking.  "Feel better?" she asked, placing her hand on his cheek.

Gourry nodded.  "Yeah, thanks."

Lina looked at him closely, taking in the rags he was wearing.  "That should take care of the poison, but I don't think Dicleary will cure infections, so I won't cast recovery, just in case."

"It's just a scratch, anyways."

She nodded and then pulled his sword out of her cloak.  As she did so, Gourry noticed that she was exposing a great deal more skin than was her wont, but he took his sword from her gratefully, ditching the inferior blade he had been using.  "Let's go punish the rest of these miscreants," she said enthusiastically, "and then I want a bath!"

"Well, what do we have here?"  A voice interjected.  "Hmm.  It looks like the pretty little girl has fallen right into my grasp without me having to go out and find her."

Gourry gently pushed Lina to one side and unsheathed his sword.  "Garik," he bit out.  

"Garik?"  Lina repeated, turning to face the new-comer.  She did a slight double take and glanced quickly between him and Gourry.  "You know him?"

Both Garik and Gourry gaped at her.  Gourry was the first to recover.  "Yeah.  We served in the same army for a while.  A long time ago."

"Not another old army buddy," Lina said in disgust.

"Not quite," Garik said smoothly in his deep voice.  "More like . . . rivals."

"Rivals?"  Gourry spat.  "You were never in my league to begin with."

Lina nodded knowingly and stage-whispered to Gourry, "That's what happens when you get a reputation.  Everybody with third-rate talent proclaims themselves your rival, just to gain some notoriety."  She turned her attention back to Garik.  "Well, that's a relief," Lina said with theatrical exaggeration.  "I'd hate to think that Gourry was friends with a clumsy rapist."  Then she smirked.  "I guess I'll leave you to Gourry then.  After all, he hasn't had a turn to beat you up in a long time."

Gourry dragged his attention away from Lina to face his self-proclaimed "rival".  How she knew Garik was beyond him, but that was beside the point at the moment.  Garik still hadn't recovered from the shock of Lina's reaction.  Gourry guessed that he wasn't used to "little girls" who showed so little fear and so much indifference.  He was so off-balance trying to figure her out, that he wasn't even paying attention to Gourry.  

"I think you're way out of your league, Garik," Gourry stated as he approached him calmly, his sword drawn.  "You may have caught me unawares yesterday, but you don't have that luxury now."

Garik glanced around frantically, almost like a cornered animal.  Finally, with a snarl, he drew his own sword.  

From the second their blades crossed, there was no question as to who was the better swordsman.  Gourry almost negligently parried Garik's first clumsy swipe, and before he could get his guard back up, Gourry nicked him across his forearm.  Nothing serious, just enough to draw blood.  Garik had been decent with the sword before, but now, missing one eye, he was at a serious disadvantage.  Gourry watched his expression carefully, on guard for some kind of underhanded tactic.  

Garik feinted, and then thrust towards Gourry's left side.  Gourry quickly blocked, and he allowed Garik to push him towards the right.  As he did, he saw the flare of triumph in Garik's eyes.  Garik's free hand flew towards his belt, and he smoothly launched a dagger.  The dagger flew wide of Gourry on his left side and hurtled towards Lina.

"Diem Wind!"  Lina shouted, and a blast of air flew forcefully from her, causing the dagger to drop harmlessly to the floor.  

Gourry braced himself against the gust of wind, but Garik was unprepared for Lina's counterattack, and he stumbled backwards.  With a flick of his wrist, Gourry disarmed Garik and sent his sword skittering away.

Garik scrabbled backwards, trying to get away from Gourry and the blade leveled at his throat.  He lurched against the door frame, and with a panicked look over his shoulder, he took off at a run.

Lina tsked as she moved to stand next Gourry.  "I'd say 'rival' was a drastic over-statement," she commented mildly as she flipped her hair over her shoulders.  It was a move that would have looked a whole lot more dramatic if her hair had been clean, Gourry noted absently.

"So, how do you know Garik," Gourry asked as he sheathed his sword.

"I don't, really," Lina shrugged.  "I caught him trying to rape a girl in Deremar's village when I was pilfering food from the inn.  She called him 'Garik', and I recognized the eye-patch."

"You didn't tell me that," Gourry accused.

"It hardly seemed worth mentioning," Lina replied after the briefest pause.  She stared at the wall, but Gourry could tell that she wasn't seeing it.  "He had barely ripped her shirt when I pulled him off of her and hit him with a mono volt."  Her voice trailed off, and she stood silent for a few moments.  Then she shook herself.  "C'mon.  Let's clear this place out and find their loot!"  She smiled up at him, and her smile almost reached her eyes.  Almost, but not quite.

Something about that encounter troubled her; it was pretty obvious.  What bothered him was that he couldn't tell who she was trying to distract:  him or herself.  Now that he thought about it, she had seemed rather upset when she came back to their camp that day, but she had brushed it off as hunger, and he had accepted it.  It was funny.  They had become physically intimate, but it seemed that they were drifting away from each other at the same time.  If someone had told him two weeks ago that Lina would keep secrets from him, he wouldn't have believed it.  But then again, he wouldn't have thought he was keeping secrets from her either.  Gourry shook his head.  He was probably overreacting.  The past few days had been trying, with Lina unconscious and then he had been abducted from a bath and subjected to the attentions of a depraved pervert.  Maybe they just needed a decent meal and a good night's sleep and everything would go back to normal.

"What's wrong?"

"What?"  Gourry shook his head again, wondering if he had missed part of the conversation again.

"Well," Lina said with her hand cocked on her hip, "you're just standing there.  Are we going to find the loot or not?"

Gourry smiled fondly at her.  "Yeah, let's go."  Now, that was typical Lina single-mindedness.  Filling her purse was always her first priority, winning out over hunger, exhaustion, or whatever else came her way.  He ruffled her hair the way he used to when they had first met.  "Then we'll find a bathhouse, and this time for sure, I get to wash your back."

------------------------------

Author's notes:  So hopefully, all the questions about Ryan have been cleared up now, right?  If this chapter felt a bit darker, blame it on Filing Sloth's "Eternal Twilight", which I started reading obsessively right in the middle of writing this chapter.  Right before deciding that Gourry was going to be captured, actually.  *Ducks*  Seriously, Flam Gush has been flirting with the darkness in the back of my mind for quite some time.  Reading "Eternal Twilight" just helped the darkness come out to play.  

I got the title for this chapter from Jesse Daark's home of lost scenes.  It just seemed appropriate for some reason.

Thanks again to Pogo for beta-reading!


	7. Bath Time?

Flam Gush 7

With the two of them working together, it didn't take long for them to clear out the rest of the bandits. In fact, it took longer for Lina to pick through their collection of treasure. She was very particular about what she stole from thieves and hated the thought of being weighed down by a bunch of worthless junk. If she was going to carry it, it had better be something of value. Lina glanced over and saw that Gourry was sifting through a pile of coins, picking out the bigger silvers and the occasional gold.

It had certainly felt good to be beating up on bandits again, even if she didn't really understand how or why Gourry had been captured. She just hoped that they didn't have a price on their heads again. It wasn't the never-ending stream of self-proclaimed "Heroes of Justice" that chased after the bounty; it wasn't even so much the fact they couldn't get a decent meal. It was the posters: they always chose the most un-flattering descriptions. "The Sworn Enemy of All Who Live" was such an over dramatization. Why couldn't somebody, just once, use "Beautiful Sorcery Genius"?

When Lina finally felt like she had taken everything of value, she turned to see Gourry lounging against a wall, watching her. A slight smile of amused tolerance played about his lips, and somehow, that one small expression caused Lina to relax, even though she had not been aware that she was tense. As crazy as things had become of late, this was how things were supposed to be: she and Gourry together against bandits or whatever else came their way.

"Ready?" Lina asked as she tucked the last sack into her cloak.

He nodded, and they made their way out of the bandits' lair. As they walked through the town in a companionable silence, Gourry placed his arm around her shoulder. No sooner had she leaned into him than he stiffened. A second later, Lina caught whiff of the delectable odor of roasting meat.

"When was the last time we had real food?" Lina asked with stars sparkling in her eyes.

Gourry laughed in glee. "C'mon, I'll even treat!"

The aroma was coming from a small street-vendor, who was offering roast goose. While Gourry placed their order and dickered over the price, Lina tried not to drool at the thought of eating something besides thin rice porridge and foul-tasting medicine. In fact, she wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to look at cheese again without feeling queasy. She was just about to duck under the short curtain that gave diners a modicum of privacy when she caught glimpse of something from the corner of her eye. She turned her head, and sure enough, she saw a familiar hooded figure in a beige cloak. He was walking at the edge of the crowd with his head ducked down, as if he didn't want anyone to see his face. Although his back was towards her, his outfit and demeanor left her with no doubts as to his identity.

Lina grinned and called out, "Hey, Zel!"

Gourry turned at her call. "Zel's here?"

"Over there," Lina pointed, but her grin had faded. When she called his name, the figure had not stopped or even slowed. "What's with him?" She started to go after him, but Gourry's hand on her arm restrained her.

"Let him go, Lina. You know he always shows up when he feels like it." Gourry handed her a roast goose leg.

Lina took it from him absently, her excitement over the food dimmed over Zel's behavior. It was like he was deliberately ignoring her, she thought with annoyance as she bit savagely into the goose leg. "Still, that's no excuse to ignore friends," she mumbled through a mouth of food. "Somebody ought to pound some sense into his head. He's always going off on his own!"

Gourry shrugged and started into his second helping.

She was surprised to see Zelgadis, and more than a bit annoyed that he wasn't acknowledging them, but at the same time, she privately admitted to relief as well. She didn't feel up to dealing with him right now. He'd either be in gloomy mode, which was just plain depressing, or he'd start shooting snide innuendos at them, and Lina just didn't feel up to that particular conversation at the moment.

As Gourry moved on to his third goose leg, Lina finished her first. She considered trying to snatch it from him, but she wasn't quite up to eating more, probably due to the fact that rice porridge was the closest she had come to solid food in more than a week. Lina absently gnawed the end off her bone and sucked out the reddish-brown marrow. It made her stomach settle for some reason. She had started on the other end when she noticed Gourry looking at her with a strange expression. "What?"

"Do you have to eat the bones, too?"

"It's very nourishing, you know." Lina stood up. "Are you ready?"

"For what?" Gourry polished off his last piece and wiped his hands absently on the rag he was using as a pair of pants, widening one of the rips in the process.

"To get your clothes and boots, for one thing." Lina glanced pointedly at his pants. "You never did explain what happened."

Gourry suppressed a shudder and leaned over to retie the rag that was keeping his borrowed pair of shoes from falling off his feet. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"So what did happen?" Lina pressed as they started walking towards the bathhouse Ryan had led her to just a scant hour earlier. She could tell that Gourry didn't want to talk about it, but she had a feeling that she probably should know all the details. "Who's Garik?"

"It's pretty much like I said. We served in the same merc band for a while."

"He certainly seems to be holding a grudge," Lina prompted.

Gourry snorted. "Well, we never liked each other, even from the beginning. He thought I was too young to have command of a cohort, and I didn't like the way he treated his men."

"It seems to go deeper than that, though." Lina filed away the information that Gourry had gained a command at a young age. As much as she wanted to follow up on that, she also wanted to know what the deal was with Garik. "What was all that 'pretty little girl' stuff about?"

"That was probably aimed at me." Gourry clenched his hands into fists. "He used to call me 'the pretty little boy' and sic all the gays on me."

"What happened?" Lina filed that bit of information away as well. It explained his reaction to the "Great Hero Valun." She hid a smile behind a cough.

"It's not funny, Lina," Gourry remonstrated with a long suffering sigh.

"I wasn't laughing!" Lina protested, but she couldn't quite keep a straight face.

Gourry's expression was frank disbelief, but he answered her original question. "We got into a scuffle one day, and he lost his eye. I took responsibility, and the commander discharged me."

"So that's it, then?" Lina chewed absently on her lower lip, considering the situation. "It's just an old grudge?"

"Well," Gourry hesitated. "I think he's working for Deremar right now."

"What?" Lina nearly choked on that one. "What gives you that idea?"

"When he came down to gloat over me, he said something about bringing the murderer of Lucilla to justice. Isn't she that girl?"

"Yeah," Lina answered slowly. "She's 'that girl.'" The niece and lover of Deremar. The girl whose murder had been pinned on the two of them in such a sloppy manner. Lina shook her head. "It just isn't making any sense. I think it's time we got some more information about Deremar."

"Hmm."

They walked the rest of the way in silence, both lost in thought. When Lina stopped in front of the bathhouse, she felt Gourry stiffen beside her. She followed Gourry's gaze and had to stop herself from doing a double-take. There, seated in front of the bathhouse, was Ryan.

"Ryan?" She asked incredulously, noting that he was holding a bundle of clothes, and Gourry's boots were sitting by his feet. "What are you still doing here?"

"What's it look like?" Ryan replied casually. "I'm waiting for you guys. The hostess gave me his clothes," Ryan thrust his chin in Gourry's direction, "and boots after you took off. I figured you'd probably show up here sooner or later."

Lina stared at him incredulously. Although it had been a long time since they had been close, she could tell he was lying, but she had no idea why. Having him there made her feel incredibly awkward, almost like she had done something wrong. She glanced at Gourry, only to catch his eyes moving back and forth between her and Ryan. The tightness around his jaw did little to put her at ease, and she felt her cheeks grow hot as the silence dragged out.

Finally, she could bear the uneasy tableau no longer. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm dying for a bath," she announced. Without waiting for a reply, she turned and marched into the bathhouse, determined to think about nothing else save the hot water that was waiting for her.

The hostess was a young girl who smiled at her pleasantly when she entered the bathhouse. Lina asked for a small private room, and within moments, she was escorted back to the room she had been in earlier that morning, the room that Gourry had used the previous night. She couldn't help but sigh a bit, partially in relief that she had found Gourry, and partially in remembrance of the frantic way she had felt the last time she had been here.

"Is there a problem, Miss?" The maid asked as she placed a stack of towels on a small stool.

Lina smiled at her. "No, no problem. This is great, thanks."

"Please feel free to contact us if there is anything else you need," the maid replied as she bowed and left the room.

As soon as the doors snicked shut, Lina shucked off her clothes, leaving them in an unkempt pile on the floor. Her skin positively itched, and she eyed the soap avariciously. She focused on the current task at hand, scrubbing herself clean.

It was only after she had washed and slipped into the tub to soak that her mind started to wander, and she found herself thinking about Ryan. And Gourry. She felt tears coming to her eyes and she lowered her head, sobbing quietly.

* * *

Gourry watched Lina flee into the relative safety of the bathhouse, recognizing her retreat for what it was. The random thought that he wouldn't get a chance to wash her back this time either flitted through his mind, but he quickly dismissed it and turned to face Ryan.

"Here." Ryan tossed the bundle of clothes at Gourry, who snagged them easily out of the air. "You probably want to change, right?" He stared pointedly at the rags Gourry was wearing.

"Yeah, thanks," Gourry replied. He wondered what was going on between Ryan and Lina. In spite of the way Ryan had reacted to Lina when she was unconscious, just now both of them had seemed ill-at-ease.

Ryan shrugged, but the way his eyes bored into Gourry's belayed that casual gesture. "You guys got back a lot sooner than I expected, although to be honest, I didn't expect you to be with her."

"Really?" Gourry wondered what was going on here. He felt like he was being challenged, but this was a kind of duel at which he had very little skill. What would Lina do in a situation like this? She'd pump him for information, of course. Well, there was one thing he was curious about . . . "Lina didn't believe you when you said you were just waiting."

Ryan winced almost imperceptibly. "You thought so, too, hunh?"

His response took Gourry aback on several levels. He couldn't decide if he liked Ryan or not. He definitely did not like what he had seen the other night, the way Ryan had spoken to Lina, the way he had touched her so familiarly, that look in his eyes whenever he saw her. He also didn't like the casual admission that Lina and Ryan knew each other well enough to read each other so easily. On the other hand, Ryan openly acknowledged that there was a relationship between Lina and Gourry, even suggesting that there was camaraderie between them because of that similarity. Gourry found himself smiling, albeit weakly. "Yeah, I thought so." It was an acknowledgement. And a claim.

"Lina and I grew up together." Ryan waved his hand dismissively.

"Really?" Gourry repeated himself. He tried to imagine her as a little girl doing little-girl-type things, but instead, he pictured her doing all the things he had done as a boy—snitching food from the kitchen, running around exploring dark and dirty corners of the keep, playing monsters and dragons, that type of thing. "Lina doesn't talk much about her past." He'd bet anything Lina had been a total tomboy, though.

Something—was it disappointment?—flared in Ryan's eyes, but he masked it quickly. "Yeah, she's always been like that," he replied pleasantly enough. "So," Ryan asked with exaggerated casualness, "how long have you been with Lina?"

"I don't know. It's been a while, I guess." Gourry shrugged.

"You guess?" Ryan pressed, as he leaned forward slightly.

"I haven't exactly been keeping records or anything if that's what you mean." He wondered why it seemed to matter so much to the other man. "Maybe you should ask Lina," he suggested, barely even noticing the affectionate smile that came to his lips when he mentioned her name, "I'm sure she could tell you how long it's been to the day."

Ryan laughed. "Yeah, I bet she could at that. She always did have a mind for details. Must be the merchant blood." A shadow crossed his face, but he covered it by standing up and stretching. "Well," he said, holding his hand out to Gourry, "it's been nice talking to you."

"You're not going to wait for Lina?" Gourry asked in surprise as he shook Ryan's hand.

Ryan looked startled and a bit guilty as he withdrew his hand from Gourry's grip. "Um . . . Well, no. There's something I need to take care of . . . business matters, you understand . . ." Ryan trailed off and stared at a point over Gourry's shoulder. Gourry followed his gaze, and wondered what was so interesting about that particular second story window.

"Well, thanks for watching my stuff."

Ryan shrugged. "No problem," he replied with a smile. "See you around, Gourry."

Gourry watched as Ryan walked away whistling a jaunty little tune. He still couldn't decide if he liked the man or not. He seemed genuinely friendly. But. Gourry wasn't sure what the "but" was, but it was there. And it was more than the fact that Ryan was Lina's old boyfriend or whatever.

Well, one thing was certain. He wouldn't be able to solve anything just standing in the front of a bathhouse in rags. Although he didn't really need another bath, since he'd just had one the night before, his flesh still remembered the stink of the dank cell and the disgustingly sensuous feel of Zeil pulling away his towel. Hot water and soap would help to scrub it away. Without a second thought, Gourry scooped up his boots and entered the bathhouse.

The hostess was different from the one he had encountered the previous evening. She was young, rather than matronly, and she looked as if she smelled something bad, the way her face was puckered up. She looked Gourry up and down with a barely concealed sneer on her face. He could easily imagine what she saw: a scruffy looking man in rags. "Can I help you sir?" She asked in a tone that clearly said that she doubted that she could help him at all.

Gourry pulled a silver coin from the sack tied to the rope he was currently using for a belt and placed it on the small counter she stood behind. "I'd like to use the baths," he said calmly.

She stared at the coin for a moment, and she looked like she was arguing with herself. Finally her hand snaked out and snatched the coin, as if she were afraid it would disappear if she didn't grab it quickly enough. She pulled a fluffy white towel off the stack behind her and tossed it at Gourry. "The public baths are that way," she said shortly with a gesture down the hall to her right.

"Thank you."

Gourry heard her grunt in reply as he walked away, and he sighed to himself. The wandering poor had always been welcome at Gabriev Keep. They'd been given a warm meal, a dry place to sleep in the barn, and usually they'd be sent on their way with a few coins. He'd been so shocked the first time he'd seen a beggar mistreated. It had been Garik, actually. No surprise there, really, and that was probably another reason for his dislike of the man. It appeared that Garik was more the norm in this particular case, though. No one seemed to like the poor. Lina had been really upset the first time he'd given some coins to a ragged group crying charity outside some small town they'd come to. It was a recurring argument, actually. Lina thought that beggars deserved their lot. If they didn't like their lot in life, they should get up and work, instead of depending on handouts from hard-working people. Gourry tended to think that those with more should help those with less.

Once Gourry arrived in the bathing room, he stripped with a great sigh of relief. He'd managed to stop thinking about the wet spot in the trousers, particularly after said wet spot had dried, but the reek of blood, smoke, and stale sex hadn't gone away. Maybe that's what the hostess had been wrinkling her nose about. At any rate, Gourry was quite happy to wad the rags up into a ball and toss them into a corner. He took his time bathing, knowing that Lina was probably going to be a while. Once he felt suitably clean, he soaked a bit in the public tub, relaxing and half-listening to the chatter of the other men there.

One conversation in particular caught his attention.

"Hey, did you hear about what's going on in Fenwic?"

"You mean about Deremar?"

"Yeah. I heard he's marrying his niece off to some Elmekian baron."

That particular statement gave Gourry quite the pause.

"That's not what I heard. I heard that Deremar tried to kill his niece. It was some kind of demonic ritual or something."

"No way! You're kidding, right?"

"Nope." There was a short pause and then a laugh. "Maybe he's doing both!"

"Wouldn't surprise me in the least. He always was a greedy bastard."

"Ain't that the truth. All merchants are greedy bastards, though."

"Yeah. Just yesterday, one of them tried to give me half of what he'd promised for the cloth we'd produced . . ."

The conversation shifted to the vagaries of wool production, and Gourry lost interest. It was strange, though. Deremar had sent out Garik after them, but he hadn't publicly put a price on their heads. And what was that part about marrying his niece to an Elmekian baron? That was just . . . downright bizarre. Elmekia was really far from here, and about the only time he ever heard anyone mention Elmekia was when they were casting that spell, Elmekia something-or-other. He shrugged to himself. Too bad Lina hadn't heard the conversation. She'd probably be able to figure out what was going on.

Gourry stepped out of the tub and toweled himself off. It was a relief to slip into his own clothes, especially the boots. As he wandered out to the entrance, he glanced around for Lina, but he didn't really expect to see her. She'd probably take a nice long soak. As he glanced around, the hostess caught his eye. It was the same girl, but this time she was smiling pleasantly at him.

"Did everything meet your expectations, sir?" She asked politely. When Gourry didn't respond right away, her brow puckered slightly. "Sir?" she repeated.

"Yeah . . . everything was fine." Gourry wondered if she even realized he was the same person as the one she had turned her nose up before. He didn't think he looked different. Same hair, same face, same body, just different clothes. Then a thought occurred to him. "Did a girl about this tall," Gourry held his hand a bit below chest-height, "come out?" He paused a moment, and then added as an afterthought, "She would've had a red tunic and a black cloak."

"Hmm . . ." the hostess tapped a finger against her cheek. "Did she have long sorta reddish hair?"

"Yeah, that would be her."

"I don't think she's come out yet."

"Would you tell her that I'll be waiting for her outside?"

"Certainly. Have a nice day, sir."

Gourry exited the bathhouse and sat on the same bench where Ryan had been waiting for them. He wondered how long Lina would take. Probably until her stomach started rumbling . . . Well, it wasn't like they were in a hurry.

He passed the time watching people go about their business. There was a lot of activity, as it was the middle of the day, the time when people seemed to be the busiest for some reason. When the mid-day activity slowed down, Lina still hadn't come out of the bathhouse. By that time, Gourry was tired of watching people and beyond bored—he was actually on the verge of falling asleep. He stood up and stretched, taking a quick glance at the sun. It was well beyond its zenith, perhaps mid-way along its descent, and Lina should've certainly been done by this time.

Just as he was deciding to go back in and ask the hostess if she had seen Lina, the girl came out.

"Oh," she said in surprise as she saw Gourry standing by the bench. "Are you still waiting for your friend?"

"Yeah," Gourry replied, wondering if he had somehow missed Lina, or if she had come out a different exit. "Did you see her?"

"No," she replied slowly, tapping her finger against the side of her cheek again.

"Could you check on her, please?" Gourry was starting to feel just the edges of worry. He didn't think anything would happen in broad daylight, but this was the same bathhouse he'd been abducted from just the previous night.

"Please wait here," she indicated, when Gourry tried to follow her down the hall.

He hesitated for half a second, and then he shook his head and dropped in behind her. Almost immediately, she stopped and turned around, taking a breath to say something. Whatever it was, she changed her mind when she saw the look on his face. Her mouth snapped shut in a thin line that barely concealed a mixture of annoyance and fear. Without a word, she marched down the hall, leading Gourry straight to a very familiar room: the same one in which he had bathed last night. He felt a tight knot of worry deep in his guts. This didn't look good.

The hostess knocked softly on the door, leaning her ear against it to hear any response. A few seconds went by . . . a moment . . . and then another. Nothing. No response. The hostess lifted her hand to knock again, but Gourry shouldered her out of the way, oblivious to her venomous glance, and banged on the door with an upraised fist. "Lina?" he called loudly, "Lina, are you in there?"

Five, he'd count out five heart-beats, and if she didn't answer by then, he was breaking the door down. /_One_./ Gourry refused to consider what he'd do if she wasn't there. /_Two_./ It was so stupid. They should've found another place. /_Three_./ A safer place that didn't have a bad track record. /_Four_./ He should never have let her out of his sight. /_Five./_ Gourry backed across the hall.

The hostess, sensing what he intended to do, stepped in front of the door, her arms outspread. "Oh no you don't!" she declared with some heat. "We run a respectable place, here, Mister! Hey—"

Before she could react, Gourry switched to Plan B. He drew his sword and cut a new door, right through the wall. Her protests were ignored as he launched himself through the new entrance, holding his breath against what he hoped not to see.

* * *

"I said I was sorry," Lina repeated for at least the tenth time as she viciously toweled her hair dry behind a privacy screen.

There was no response, but she didn't really expect one.

Well, was it her fault that she had fallen asleep in the bath? It had been warm and comfortable, and she had felt so relaxed. More relaxed than she had been in such a long time. And, she had been tired. After spending the past week or more convalescing, she hadn't thought that using her magic would exhaust her so. Apparently she'd been wrong. She hadn't meant to sleep so long. Vaguely, she recalled waking a few times, but in each case, she had felt waves of lethargy crashing through her, and opening her eyes was such a struggle that she had just given in to the demands of her body. Sleep really was the best way for her to recover her strength. Sleep and food, she amended as her stomach growled insistently.

She peeked around the edge of the privacy screen. Gourry was leaning against a wall, his arms folded impassively across his chest, just staring off into space. Yup. No doubt about it, he was still steamed.

After he had come crashing into the room, to find her muzzily lifting her head from pillowed arms, the hostess had gone into a tirade about damaging private property and the like. She had been so strident that Lina had felt the beginnings of a headache, and, as much as it galled her, she finally stepped in and promised to pay for the damages, before the woman would go away. Gourry hadn't said anything, he had just adopted his current pose, his lips pressed together.

Well, it wasn't her fault, really, Lina thought as she buttoned her last decent tunic. She did feel bad that she had made Gourry worry, but if he had come into the baths with her in the first place, they could have avoided this entire messy situation. _And_ she wouldn't have to pay for the damages to the wall.

Lina sighed. She was _really_ tired of paying for damages. Especially when they weren't really her fault.

The glimmer of an idea tickled in the back of her mind, and she tried to coax it out to the front. Naga. It had something to do with Naga and her "original" spell that combined a golem with an elemental spirit. She shook her head, wondering what brought this to mind. Honestly, it didn't seem like the time for it, really. But try as she might to focus on her current situation—and how she could figure out a way to avoid paying for what essentially amounted to renovations of this room—her mind kept returning to the image of Naga summoning a ridiculous looking dragon made of rock. The thing's head and neck had been too big for its tiny body, and it had been more of a menace to them than a help, as many of Naga's spells tended to be. When it crashed to the ground, it had crumbled back into rock, but for a brief moment, man that thing had looked impressive. The problem had been that Naga couldn't maintain control over the earth spirit she had summoned to animate the rock . . . the glimmer of an idea flared brightly, and Lina eagerly seized hold of it.

If she could summon an elemental, probably just a minor one, and control it, she might be able to get it to repair the wall. And if she was really lucky, the wall would still be intact when she dismissed the spirit. Naga's dragon had disintegrated, but Lina thought it was just as likely that the thing collapsed under its own weight. The idea, assuming it worked, had multiple attractions, the least of which was improving upon a spell of Naga's. Just imagining the look on that sour hostess' face when she told her that she had no clue of what damages she was talking about . . . that in and of itself made the whole attempt worthwhile.

As she walked over to the busted wall, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that Gourry was watching her instead of staring into space, but the idea had grabbed hold of her, and she just had to find out if she was right. Half a dozen possible uses sprang to mind immediately—like fixing a broken ship and not being stuck dead at sea and starving.

With a deep breath, she summoned the elemental. That turned out to be the easy part. Getting it to understand what she wanted it to do was much more difficult. The words "fix," "repair," or "make whole," seemed to have no meaning to it, but when Lina focused her mind on an image of what she wanted accomplished, she found that the wall was returned to its original state in almost no time at all. Now for the tricky part. She dismissed the elemental, and held her breath. So far, so good . . . . She placed her hand cautiously against the wall, ready to pull it back if it gave any indication that it was going to come crashing down, and then pushed a bit harder when it held. She couldn't resist a smug smile of self-satisfaction at her handiwork.

"That's a neat trick," Gourry said from right behind her.

Lina whirled around, a bit startled. "So, you're not mad at me anymore?"

"I guess not," Gourry answered with a sigh.

"Good!" Lina grabbed his arm. "Then let's go eat! I'm starving!"

After filling her stomach, Lina felt nearly herself. She pushed her chair back and watched people pass by outside the window of the little restaurant they had found. Once again, she noticed a familiar looking figure. "Hey, there's Zel, again!" she pointed out enthusiastically.

"Where?" Gourry turned his head. As he did, Lina snitched a spoonful of mashed potatoes from his plate.

"Ah," Lina said in disgust after quickly swallowing, "he ducked out of sight again! It's like he's actively avoiding us or something."

"You think?" Gourry turned his attention back to his food. "Lina," he growled, eyeing her empty plate.

"What?" Lina put on her most innocent expression, and casually reached across the table to help herself to more of his food.

Just as her spoon was coming down, Gourry snatched his plate out of her reach and shoveled the remaining food into his mouth.

"Aww," Lina pouted. "That's not playing fair, Gourry!"

"Fair's got nothin' to do wi' it," he answered though a mouthful of food, although there was a gleam in his eye.

The retort on Lina's lips died as she caught glimpse of another familiar figure hurrying across the street. It was Ryan and it looked like he was going in the same direction Zel had gone. She shook her head, forcibly dispelling stray thoughts. No. She wasn't going to think about Ryan right now.

"What's wrong?" Gourry reached across the table, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her face, his eyes full of concern.

"Nothing," Lina replied too quickly. She could see that he didn't believe her, and she sighed briefly. "Nothing that I want to talk about right now," she amended.

Gourry's eyes held hers a moment longer, and then he seemed to dismiss the incident, for which Lina was intensely grateful. "Are you done?" he asked as he stood up.

"Yeah, for now at least." Lina stood up as well, tossing her napkin on a stack of dirty dishes.

"Good, then let's go!" he replied with enthusiasm.

"Go where?" She was a bit taken aback. Usually she led, and Gourry followed. It was a bit strange to see him taking the lead.

"Shopping, of course. I saw the perfect place when we were walking over."

Lina allowed herself to be led to Gourry's "perfect place". Although she had been extremely leery about her commitment to allow him to pick the outfit if he was going to pay, she also privately confessed to herself that she was incredibly curious as to what he would choose. His taste in clothing certainly wasn't bad, if his own outfit was any indication. He tended to choose blues, which Lina knew would look awful with her coloring, but there was nothing wrong with the style. It was serviceable, practical, and easily washed, all important considerations for their peripatetic lifestyle.

The shop turned out to be more like a little boutique, and what Lina saw in the window didn't inspire her with confidence. There were swaths of lace, and ribbons, silks and satins, but nothing that actually advertised what the place sold. "Are you sure about this?" Lina asked when Gourry opened the door, causing a tiny bell to tinkle pleasantly.

"Yup," was his only reply as he tugged her into the shop's interior.

"Can I help you?" A matronly woman ducked from behind a curtain. She blinked a bit when she saw Gourry, and then her gaze settled on Lina. For some reason, something about her expression made Lina want to blush.

Gourry pushed Lina in front of him. "She needs some proper underwear and a bra or two. Oh, and a couple of chemises as well," he said in a casual tone, as if he were ordering food off a menu.

Lina felt her face go crimson. She turned on Gourry, her hands clenched in fists at her side. "What do you mean 'proper underwear,'" she hissed. "And how would a jellyfish like you know what proper underwear is, anyways." Never mind the fact that they had been intimate. The thought of Gourry picking out her underclothes just felt . . . wrong. Obscene, even. And then there was the fact that she didn't have enough to fill a bra . . . Lina felt her face heat up a few more degrees.

With a chuckle that was only partially amused, Gourry caught one of her hands and uncurled the clenched fingers. He leaned forward and spoke softly. "Well, I learned about proper underwear from all those times you dressed me up in drag, of course." He gave her a gentle nudge in the direction of the shopkeeper and spoke in a normal tone of voice. "I'll just be waiting outside. Take your time, Lina."

There was definitely a spring in his step as he exited the shop. Lina muttered a few choice oaths under her breath and considered following him. After all, she had reserved veto rights. But. As embarrassing as it was to have Gourry lead her into a place that sold lingerie, a small voice at the back of her mind suggested that she didn't really want to leave, that she wanted to try on frilly lacy underthings. And, as small as the voice was, Lina knew that it was right. She'd been a bit on the envious side when she'd seen Amelia's underclothes—in fact it had been Amelia who had insisted on the bra and panties that time they'd dressed Gourry up to evade the bounty hunters around Sandoria—although she'd rationalized that they were too expensive to justify. Nobles and princesses could afford fancy underthings. Merchants and the lower classes did without. But, if Gourry were paying, she wouldn't have to feel like she was spending extravagantly for no purpose. Lina deliberately squelched the thought that Gourry wasn't _really_ paying since the money came out of their common fund. That wasn't the point.

With a smile she hoped would cover her trepidation, Lina turned to face the matronly shopkeeper.

"This way, dear." The woman ushered Lina into the back room. "Your young man wants you dressed—or undressed," she corrected herself with a chuckle, "in sexy attire."

Lina started choking a bit on that, and tried to stammer out a reply.

"No, no need to worry, dear." She paused and held Lina at arms length, sizing her up. Lina felt herself blushing again, and the older woman's eyes twinkled. "My name is Merla." She paused, a tacit request for Lina's name.

"I'm Lina Inverse," Lina responded. Merla's eyebrows raised slightly, but she gave no other indication that she recognized the name.

"Well, Lina, let's take your measurements," Merla said briskly, pulling out a long knotted cord. "Then I can show you some samples for you to choose from."

Merla proceeded to measure Lina every which way. Some were familiar and expected—around the hips, waist and bust for example. Others made absolutely no sense to Lina. She measured the length of her arms and legs, her wrists and ankles, her neck, and from shoulder to shoulder—both straight across her back and going down her torso, through her crotch and back up the other side. Lina blushed at that one, but it turned out to be the worst of them. Merla murmured numbers to herself as she measured, but they made no sense to Lina. At last, the woman seemed satisfied, and she wound her cord up, tucking it away.

"Now," Merla announced, rubbing her hands together. "Silk or satin?"

Everything became a blur at that point, with endless options presented to Lina. There was lace or bows, no lace, no bows, all lace—that particular example really had Lina blushing. Lina opted for something simple in the silk, and then she had to choose from an assortment of colors: pink, beige, white, black, ivory, pale blue, lilac . . . she had never known that underwear came in so many colors. The biggest surprise was the bra. Not only did it fit Lina perfectly, but as she looked at herself in the mirror, she was amazed to see that she looked more like a woman—not as well endowed as most of the women she knew, but definitely not a flat-chested kid. Finally, Lina had made all her choices. Merla wrapped the chemises in a square of plain rough linen, promising to have the rest ready by the next afternoon, and Lina called Gourry in to pay for her purchases.

Next, Gourry ushered her into a tailor's shop, where he picked out two shirts—one sleeveless turtleneck in a forest green color, the other a creamy peach colored scoop-neck. He also selected two sets of leggings—one rust-colored and the other a dark brown. The tailor also took Lina's measurements, although he wasn't quite as thorough as Merla had been, and promised that the alterations would be finished by the following evening.

When Lina and Gourry finally finished with their shopping, the sun had set, and the city lights had been lit. They walked back to Siebert's in a companionable silence. Lina privately conceded that Gourry had good taste. At least he had the sense not to suggest she wear blue. Although the clothes had been a bit on the baggy side when she tried them on, they had flattered her figure far more than anything else she had ever worn.

"What do you say we stop for dinner before going back to Siebert's?" Lina suggested.

"Sounds good," Gourry agreed.

"I've got a better idea," a vaguely familiar voice from the shadows suggested. "Why don't you come with me, instead." Deremar's greasy steward, Elfred stepped out of the shadows, flanked by Garik. "My master is most . . . _eager_ to meet with you."

-----------------------------------

Author's notes: Well, months later, I finally get chapter 7 out. (Hee hee! I finally got rid of all other distractions! It's summer break, and the kids are off to camp . . . ah, but my freedom ends tomorrow . . .) Hopefully Lina and Gourry are going to get some answers about what's going on soon!

Thanks go out to Filing Sloth for beta-reading! (sniff he made me rewrite the entire scene between Gourry and Ryan . . .)


	8. A Big Beautiful Flower!

"Why don't you come with me, instead." Deremar's greasy steward, Elfred stepped out of the shadows and into the torchlight, flanked by Garik. "My master is most . . . _eager_ to meet with you."

Gourry's hand went automatically to his sword hilt, and he bared his teeth in a feral grin.

"Looks like you were right, Gourry." Lina spoke calmly, as if she hadn't a care in the world. She directed her next words at Elfred. "If your master wants an audience with the Beautiful Sorcery Genius, Lina Inverse," Lina paused theatrically, and Gourry tensed, preparing for the moment when all chaos would break forth, "then he'll have to meet my price!"

The stupefied expressions of shock on Elfred and Garik's faces were comically obvious, even in the poor lighting.

"Seriously," Lina's tone oozed derision, "you expect that a stock dialogue line like that is going to have us cowering in fear?" She grinned sardonically. "Besides, he," Lina thrust her chin out at Garik, "has already been humiliated by Gourry today."

Elfred's glance flicked quickly between Gourry and Garik and he snarled, although it wasn't clear if he was displeased with Garik, with Gourry, or with the situation in general. Probably the latter, Lina thought. Things didn't seem to be going according to his predetermined script. Elfred composed his face into a neutral expression. "So, if I offer you money, you'll come along quietly?"

Lina laughed. "That depends entirely on how much you're offering!" Of course, she had no intention of meekly following along behind Elfred, although she was burning with curiosity. What could Deremar possibly want from them? Why would he frame them for the murder of his niece, sic a mob of peasants on them, and then invite them to his castle? None of it made sense. The whole thing was just so amateurish, down to hiring a swordsman who couldn't possibly be a threat to someone of Gourry's skill.

At her side, she heard Gourry's barely suppressed a sigh. She flicked a glance in his direction, and she could tell that he knew what she was about to do. Well, odds were that Deremar's greasy steward wouldn't be able to afford—let alone willing to pay—her price, but his reaction would be priceless nonetheless. After all, Lina had a reputation to maintain.

"Pretty cocky for a little girl who was on the verge of death just from a simple cut," Elfred sneered.

"'Was' being the operative term." Lina smiled but her tone had turned deadly serious. So he thought he could threaten her, did he? "Care to try me?"

Garik unsheathed his sword, and struck a pose. Lina supposed he thought he was threatening, but he just looked ludicrous to her. Apparently, Gourry was taking no chances, for she heard his sword rasp against its sheath as he drew it. Well, it looked like she wouldn't get a chance to charge them after all. She quickly selected a spell that would make her point with the least amount of damage. There were parts of her reputation she'd be just as happy to ditch, and destroying part of a town wouldn't help in that particular effort.

"Lina?"

The sound of Ryan's familiar voice behind her broke her concentration, and she turned toward him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Garik lean forward eagerly, his sword glinting in the flickering torchlight as he extended it low before him and lunged forward. At the same moment, Ryan's hand flicked to his doublet, his face contorted with hate. He yanked out a dagger, and hurled it towards her with an underhanded cast. Before she could react to either threat, Gourry burst into action. A quick slice with his sword removed Garik's arm at the elbow. Garik's sword clattered uselessly to the ground, his now-severed hand still gripping the hilt. A hot gout of blood slammed into them as Gourry hurled his shoulder into her, pushing her out of the path of the dagger. She heard it whiz past, followed by the wet thud of impact.

"Ryan?" Lina barely whispered. Her eyes were wide with shock, and she trembled ever so slightly. Had Ryan just attacked her? Had he just tried to kill her?

Ryan, however, ignored Lina as if she weren't even there. "You!" he snarled as advanced upon Garik, his eyes filled with hate. Garik looked up from the dagger hilt embedded deep in his belly to the young man who marched so purposefully on him, his eyes blank and glazed with shock.

"You!" Ryan cried out again as he grabbed the front of Garik's tunic and began to shake him back and forth. Garik tried to bat him away, instinctively using both arms—or what was left of them at any rate. Ryan seemed oblivious to the other man's blows and to the blood that was spurting from Garik's stump. "Murderer!"

Even in the ruddy torchlight, Garik's color was ashen, and if he didn't get help soon, he'd probably die from blood loss, if not from the dagger stuck in his bowels. The stench of human feces was sickeningly overpowering, and a good indicator of the extent of Garik's injuries. Lina was dimly aware of Elfred trying to slink away, and of Gourry intercepting him, but most of her attention was focused on the grisly scene in front of her, as she tried to comprehend how her gentle Ryan could be so violent.

"Ryan, stop!" Lina finally cried out. She moved to pull him off of Garik. Not that she cared what happened to Garik. She just couldn't bear to see Ryan like this.

Ryan bucked his shoulders violently against Lina, shoving her away. "You bastard!" He yelled, his voice rough with tears. He brought his face within inches of Garik's. "You were his friend! How could you? How could you!" Ryan punctuated each statement by shaking Garik's broken body.

Garik's eyes came into focus for a brief moment. He looked at Ryan, and a faint flash of recognition lit his face. "How could I what?" he asked in a broken whisper. He coughed weakly, spraying blood onto Ryan's face, then he slumped forward with a particularly breathy sigh.

The dead weight was too much for Ryan, and he let Garik's body slip onto the blood-spattered ground. He stared at it for a brief moment, and then he started kicking it.

"Ryan! Enough!" Lina wrapped her arms around Ryan, pulling him back gently from Garik's corpse. "He's dead. Enough."

Ryan stiffened, and for an instant, Lina thought he might buck her off again. Instead, he fell to his knees, kind of half-crawled to the side, and retched. Lina knelt beside him, rubbing his back and murmuring that it would be alright, over and over again.

Finally, Ryan got his stomach under control, and after weakly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he buried his face in her shoulder. His body shook with the force of his sobs, and Lina continued to hold him and soothe him. She heard Gourry and Elfred talking, although she couldn't make out what they were saying, and then Gourry walked over to her and Ryan. He placed his hand gently on her shoulder, and Lina flashed him a look of gratitude.

As if sensing the tableau between Lina and Gourry, Ryan pushed himself gently away from Lina. He took a wavering deep breath and slowly let it out. "Finally," he said softly. "It's finally over."

Lina looked at him quizzically. "What's over? What did he do?"

Ryan stared at her incredulously, shaking his head. "That man," he said viciously, kicking Garik's body for emphasis, "killed my brother, remember?"

The words echoed through Lina's head. "Your brother?" she repeated hesitantly. "Erik?" She felt her flesh prickle, and she tried in vain to suppress a shiver. She'd never liked Erik—he'd had a rather wide cruel streak, the kind that made him think that tossing a sack of kittens into the river was funny, or that tripping little girls by grabbing their hair as they ran by was a hilarious joke—but Ryan had thought the world of his older brother.

"Who else?" Ryan demanded, as he took a step toward Lina.

Lina shook her head, feeling an icy cold fist clench around her heart, and she unconsciously stepped back from Ryan, holding her hands out as if to ward him away. Erik was dead? She should know that, shouldn't she?

"Don't you remember, Lina?" Ryan stretched his hand out to her as if coaxing a small child.

Remember . . . shouldn't she remember . . . ? It was red. All around her. Pain. Everywhere. In her head. Screaming to get out. No. NO! She didn't want to remember—

Suddenly, Gourry was standing between her and Ryan, his entire body tense, as he brandished a dagger under Ryan's nose. "_Where_" he asked in a deadly quiet tone, "did you get this?"

* * *

The dagger. Ryan had flipped it so quickly, and the lighting wasn't exactly the best, so Gourry hadn't gotten a good glance at it, being more concerned with protecting Lina from simultaneous attacks from the front and the rear. It hadn't been until Ryan had kicked Garik's body over that Gourry had gotten a good look at it, and his blood had run cold. The hilt was quite distinctive and very familiar: from the dull gray wire-wrap down to the three prongs at the base of the hilt. He had pulled it from Garik's body, ignoring the overpowering stench of rot wafting from Garik's bowels, and wiped it off to see exactly what he had expected: a perfect replica of the Sword of Light, the main-gauche mate to the sword that was Gourry's birthright. He had last seen it sheathed at his father's side. That had also been the last time he had seen his father—or any of his kith and kin—alive.

Ryan involuntarily stepped back, moving away from the dagger Gourry held under his nose. "I . . . I . . . don't know," he stammered, looking confused.

"How can you not know?" Gourry demanded incredulously. "This is the blade you hurled at Garik!"

"Well, it's not mine, that's for sure," Ryan repeated forcefully, as he patted his tunic, evidently looking for the blade he thought he had thrown. Then he paused, squinting at the blade. "Isn't that . . . it looks like the Sword of Light!" he breathed reverently.

"The Sword of Light!" Lina exclaimed excitedly as she rushed up to get a good look at the blade Gourry held. "Hey! That's not—"

"Not exactly," Gourry interrupted. Then a thought occurred to him. "How did you know," he slowly asked Ryan, "that this looks like the Sword of Light?" Not even Lina had recognized it so quickly. In fact, she hadn't recognized it at all until he'd used the blade to slay a monster.

Ryan spread the fingers of his hand wide and shrugged. "My brother," he said simply. "He had a passion for all the old lost magical blades. He used to dream about finding them . . ." He trailed off for a moment, then he looked again at the dagger. "It's not really the Sword of Light is it?"

Gourry shook his head.

Ryan held out his hand for the blade. "Can I have it back?"

Gourry felt an uncharacteristic surge of possessiveness, and his hand clenched tightly around the blade, which sliced into his hand, drawing blood. Ryan had relinquished his claim on the dagger by refusing to name it as his own. It belonged to Gourry, now, just as the Sword of Light had been his by right. "This blade belonged to my father," he said tightly. "It belongs in the hands of a Gabriev."

"Meaning you," Ryan said flatly, his eyes momentarily tightening, but holding Gourry's.

Gourry returned Ryan's gaze impassively, but he couldn't help but feel like the other man was challenging him again.

"Don't worry," Ryan said, breaking eye contact after a brief tableau. "I wouldn't dream of claiming anything that belongs to you." His expression was genuinely sincere, but there was an underlying trace of bitterness in his tone.

"Gourry!" Lina interjected, "your hand!" She gently pried his fingers away from the dagger, closing her eyes and casting a quick healing spell. "There," she said when she finished, "good as new!" She smiled up at him, but he could see the shadows in her eyes. She was worried. And very curious. "So," she turned to look at Ryan, "you have no idea how you got this dagger?"

Ryan shook his head. "Nope. Never seen it before in my life." He paused. "But," he said slowly, "however I got it, I'm glad. It seems fitting to kill my brother's murderer with a replica of his favorite lost magical sword." He eyed the dagger. "Are you sure it belonged to your father?"

There was absolutely no doubt in Gourry's mind that the blade belonged to his father. He could even prove it to Ryan—except that he felt absolutely no desire to do so. So he just nodded, tucked the dagger under his belt, and changed the subject. "We should do something about this." Gourry nudged Garik's body with his boot. "Stray dead bodies tend to make the local officials nervous."

"What do you suggest?" Ryan asked.

"Leave this to me." Lina scuffed the ground with her toe a few times. "Back up," she ordered, and then she cast a spell that turned the hard-packed dirt alley into a soupy mud. Once Garik's body sank beneath the surface, she turned around. "Now what?"

Gourry hadn't the faintest of ideas, and he shrugged. Lina's shoulders slumped forward briefly, but when she looked up again, her teeth were bared in frustration. "None of this is making sense!" She declared, taking a deep breath. Gourry recognized the signs of a full-fledged Lina-type rant.

"Lina?" Ryan had been staring incredulously at the mud that hid Garik's body, his eyes hard, but he seemed to be well aware of the trajectory of Lina's mood, timing his question to catch her mid-breath. "I know you didn't like my brother . . ." he hesitated briefly before plunging ahead, "but would you join me in drinking to his memory? Gourry, too, of course."

Ryan's request seemed reasonable enough, but at the mention of his brother, Lina had flinched, and now, her eyes darted about frantically. Gourry had never seen her look this skittish before, and he wondered what was bothering her. With a visible effort, she held herself still. The only remaining outward sign of her inner turmoil was in her hands, which were clenched so tightly into fists that they shook slightly with the strain. With her lips forced into a polite, but obviously fake, smile, she opened her mouth to answer Ryan.

Before she could speak, Ryan interrupted. "Please?" he asked simply. "For me?"

The fake smile fled her lips, and Lina turned as white as a sheet. "I . . ." Her voice was so faint Gourry had to strain to hear her. "I'm sorry . . ." She shook visibly. "I . . ." With a low moan, she turned and fled, leaving Ryan gaping after her.

"Lina, wait!" Ryan called out and started to run after her.

"Don't!" Gourry's voice cracked like a whip as he threw his arm out in front of the other man. Although he didn't know why, he knew that Lina was on the verge of shattering. Ryan chasing after her could push her over the edge. As much as he wanted to run after her himself, to hold her and comfort her, above all else, he was her protector, and right now, she needed to be protected from whatever threat it was that Ryan's request represented.

"But . . . but . . ." Ryan stammered in shock. "I guess you're right," he admitted reluctantly. "I knew she didn't like my brother . . . but I never expected . . . "

"I've known Lina for a long time, now," Gourry said slowly, "and I've never seen her turn tail and run like that." Even when she should run, even in the face of certain death, she always stood her ground. That's why she needed him to protect her, because she didn't know when to give up and admit she was beat. How could drinking to Ryan's brother possibly be any worse than getting killed by a copy?

"You're kidding, right?" Ryan asked incredulously. "Lina?" He stared along the alley, following the path Lina had just run. "That doesn't sound like the girl I once knew." He looked up at Gourry. "That," he said scowling in the direction Lina had fled, "was more like the Lina I knew. She was always running off, leaving me to take the heat for all her crazy schemes . . ." Ryan trailed off, his eyes clouded with memory.

"You were more than just childhood friends." It was obvious from the way Ryan looked at her, and the way she looked at him.

"We were handfasted in the cradle," Ryan admitted, "and grew up friends, but knowing that one day we would be man and wife . . ." He looked up at Gourry, not even trying to conceal the pain that darkened his eyes. "We were just kids, you know? But kids can fall in love too . . ."

"What happened?" It didn't really surprise him. That would explain _most_ of how they were acting, and the strong connection between them.

"She broke it off," Ryan said simply, his voice thick. "I hadn't seen her since . . . until you walked up to me, carrying her . . ." He swallowed convulsively. "If you'll excuse me," he squared his shoulders, "I'm going to go have a drink in memory of my brother." He looked up at Gourry, his expression tinged with an old pain, but also with a faint hint of pride. "Now that his death has been avenged, perhaps his spirit will rest easier."

Gourry ran his hand over the hilt of his father's dagger as he watched Ryan walk away, wishing fervently that he could say the same.

* * *

Heat. All around her. Inside of her. Burning. It burned them—No! She wasn't going to think about it. That's why she was running, right? So she wouldn't have to think about the memories that were gnawing at the barriers she had constructed. She didn't want to remember. She wouldn't let herself remember.

Lina ran through dark alleys, twisting and turning, not caring where she ended up. She ran until her breath came quickly and she felt a burning stitch of pain running just under her ribs. She focused on the pain, welcoming it as a much needed distraction. She ran until her legs felt leaden and her mind was empty, and only then did she stop running.

She stood, breathing deeply, leaning over slightly with her hands resting on her knees, and as soon as she caught her breath, she laughed with delight. It had felt _good_ to push her body like that. She felt strangely cleansed, even though she was drenched in sweat and doubtless needed yet another bath.

The only real problem was that after running blindly for so long, Lina had no clue where she was, and even less of an idea how to get back to where she had been. Not that she had much of an inclination to get back to where she'd been . . . but she did wish a bit wistfully that Gourry had followed her. Given the lateness of the hour, there were very few people about. Lina wandered about aimlessly, hoping to encounter some guards doing the rounds so she could ask for directions, or maybe just find an inn where she could get a room.

Unfortunately, if the buildings were any indication, she'd be lucky to find an inn. She seemed to be in a residential section of the town, and a rather high-class section at that, if the large houses surrounded by wide well-manicured lawns and wrought iron fences were any indication. She probably wouldn't run into any guards, either. They tended to frequent the rowdier sections of town, closer to the taverns where brawls were wont to break out. They left the defense of the richer sections of town to the wealthy who could afford to pay for private guards. She couldn't really complain, since she and Gourry often found easy work because of such arrangements. Still, it was downright annoying in her current predicament.

All thoughts of being lost fled her mind when she turned onto a wider avenue at the end of the residential street she was on. The most . . . impressive building she had ever seen dominated the courtyard in front of her. It wasn't the largest—the royal palaces of Seyruun were easily bigger. It wasn't even the decorations—given the fact that it was the middle of the night, the decorations were rather indistinct. What made it impressive were the tall spires that seemed to reach up to the very stars. Even in the dark, the building had a delicate feel to it, almost as if it was on the verge of floating away from the ground to join the stars above. The entire effect was literally uplifting, and quite breathtaking. Lina found herself wondering if it would be just as impressive during the day.

The front doors were open, and the hint of flickering candlelight silently invited her to come in. Not that Lina needed much encouragement. Her nap earlier had refreshed her, but she'd also been going non-stop since then, and she could really use the rest.

As Lina approached, she could make out more of the details. Everything about the building suggested a sense of weightlessness. The doors were shaped like pointed arches, which made them seem small from a distance, but standing right next to them, Lina realized that they were so large that a full-grown dragon could have walked through them without even ducking his head. There were huge candles everywhere, the expensive ones made out of beeswax that didn't smoke, marking side alcoves that ran the length of the building. It was pretty clear that she was in some sort of temple, which would explain why the doors were open, even though it well beyond sundown.

In marked contrast to the brightly burning candles, the alcoves were shrouded in shadow. The first one Lina passed had an indistinct statue tucked into a niche, but what really caught her attention were the small padded benches that lined the walls. As she sank down gratefully, she wondered which god the building was supposed to honor. One thing was certain: she was in a sacred space. She didn't consider herself particularly reverent, but even she could feel the calming sense of peace that surrounded her, making her feel like a child safe in her mother's arms. Lina closed her eyes. In a strange way, this was better than sitting in the bath.

The serenity of the temple caressed her, and gave her a strong enough feeling of security to allow her thoughts to drift. She felt like a child in more ways than one. Running away . . . that had been her typical response to trouble as a young girl. She giggled quietly to herself. More often than not, Ryan had ended up taking the brunt of their parents' displeasure for her little schemes. Her giggle turned quickly into a grimace. Just this morning, she had told Ryan she wasn't the little girl he had known. And here she was, giving the lie to her claim.

Her hand reached into a pocket inside her cloak and drew out a small wooden falcon. As her fingers caressed wood worn smooth to the touch, she was taken back to the day Ryan had given it to her. They had been old enough to understand what their handfasting meant, although not quite old enough to marry and take up adult responsibilities—children on the brink of maturity. Ryan had carved the falcon himself and presented it to her as a token of their eventual union. She closed her eyes, clearly remembering the dappled light of the sun shining through the trees, the warm smell of freshly cut hay wafting on the breeze, overlaying the familiar damp and musty smell of the forest. Her fingers clenched around the small figure. How many nights had she cried herself to sleep clutching this tiny wooden bird? Although it represented a part of her past that was forever sealed to her—hadn't her parents made that brutally clear?—she couldn't bear to part with it. Even now.

Lina tucked the figure back into her cloak with a sigh. She stood up and headed back towards the entrance to the temple, pausing for a moment in the transept. Even inside, the building seemed to be designed to encourage people to look up. From the magnificent vaulted arches to the narrow windows that were everywhere, everything tugged the eye up. As Lina traced the lines of the temple to the point where they receded into the darkness, she suddenly realized how foolish she was being. There was no real reason for her to wander the streets aimlessly, like a lost little girl. All she needed to do was levitate, and even if she didn't see anything familiar, she'd certainly be able to find a more active part of the town to get some directions. She mentally kicked herself for being so stupid, even as she ran out of the temple and rose effortlessly into the night sky.

From her lofty vantage she easily determined where she needed to go, recognizing the open market square she'd seen so often from her room at Siebert's, the one where Gourry had first encountered Ryan. It was only a few streets over—in the opposite direction than she had been headed. It figured. Just par for the course, considering the way her luck had been going lately. Of all the places in the world, of all the times in her life, it had to be now that she ran into Ryan, right on the heels of finally acknowledging the feelings she had for Gourry. Old love, meet the new love. Lina grimaced.

She had grown up knowing she would marry Ryan. It had been an integral part of her identity as a child. When that had been ripped away from her, she discovered that it was best to rely on herself. She snorted. With all the weirdos she kept running into, it was for the best really. She certainly couldn't rely on people like Naga! And then Gourry came along. Even if he did think she was a little girl at first, even if he had been Weirdo Number One, he was reliable. He never left her—okay, he had left her once or twice, but it really wasn't his fault, and he'd shown up again when it was clutch time . . . . She couldn't imagine a future without Gourry. But seeing Ryan made the child she had been mourn the loss of what she could not have.

Why couldn't that childish part of her just suck it up and get over it? The past was done and gone. If she spent too much time obsessing over it, she'd turn into someone like Rezo, or his copy, regretting what could not be, rather than creating the future she wanted. Lina squared her shoulders. Would she rather look at the ruined flower of her past, or to the flower of the future, the one whose name she didn't know yet? Let the unfinished business of the past remain there. Lina landed smoothly on the cobbled pavement underneath Siebert's apartment. Her future stood by the window up there, his golden hair limned in candlelight.

"Hey, Gourry!" she called out, waving to him with a smile, "where've you been?"

* * *

AN: It's funny how things going on in my real life keep intruding themselves into the story in random little ways. This time, it was a trip to Britain, and my first encounter with a Gothic Cathedral. Pictures just don't do them justice. Everything about them makes you look up!

Thanks go out again to Filing Sloth for beta-reading! He was truly influential in keeping both Gourry and Lina believable (even if he did make me rewrite the Gourry/Ryan exchange yet again . . .), and if you liked the scene where Garik got offed, you can thank him for badgering me until I finally gave in and killed the incompetent sot.


	9. What Ever Happened to Gabriev Keep?

For the second time in two days, Gourry woke up with one pisser of a headache. A quick sensory inventory confirmed that at least this time he wasn't confined in some dark cell. He seemed to be comfortable, and if the warm red color he was seeing behind his eyelids was any indication, he was in a bright and sunny room. With a groan, he covered his eyes with his forearm.

A vicious chuckle intruded on his agony, making his head throb even more. "Serves you right, you know," Lina said—rather loudly too—right by his ear.

"Ow! Lina, do you have to talk so loud?" he demanded plaintively.

"I'm not loud!" Lina exclaimed, if anything even louder, "I'm talking in a perfectly normal voice!"

"Okay, okay," he mumbled, pulling a pillow over his head. "Can you at least turn off the lights?"

There was the clatter of wooden rings against the rod as Lina pulled the drapes shut, and the brightness of the room decreased marginally. "That's about the best I can do." He felt her sit down on the bed next to him, and then the throbbing in his head started to recede.

"Thanks," he murmured with a heart-felt sigh when she finished with her spell. He had a vague recollection of standing in the muddy alley where Ryan had killed Garik, wondering what he should do next, and knowing that he had very little hope of finding Lina. That had considerably narrowed his options. He could search the city and hope to get lucky—the last time he had done that, it had taken days to find her—he could go back to Siebert's and wait for her, or he could follow Ryan.

He had opted for the latter, mostly because he was hoping that the other man could give him some insight into why she was so upset. Somehow, he had ended up sharing a drink to Ryan's brother, and then another one. Ryan was intent on drinking himself into insensibility, and he insisted that Gourry match him, tankard for tankard. Again, it seemed that his options were limited. He could refuse and insult Ryan, he could leave and let the man drink himself into insensibility on his own, or he could go with the flow, knowing that even if he wouldn't remember a thing the next day, he'd be steady enough to keep the two of them out of trouble. He remembered thinking that the third option was best, but things got a bit fuzzy after that. He seemed to recall Ryan talking quite a bit, about his brother and about Lina, but that was about it.

He heard her chuckle again. "So, what possessed you and Ryan to get trashed-off-your-asses drunk?"

He swept the pillow away and sat up to look at Lina. "What was I supposed to do after you ran off?" He hadn't meant for it to come out like an accusation, but it did nonetheless. "By the time I convinced Ryan not to chase after you, you were long gone. I didn't have a hope in hell of finding you at that point."

Lina blanched and recoiled slightly, but she recovered quickly. "I bet you're hungry," she said as she stood up and started walking towards the door. "I'll see if Siebert's got something left for you to eat."

"Lina." Gourry called softly just as she turned the doorknob.

"Yeah?"

"Please don't run away from me again." Before yesterday, he would have never believed it possible. He still couldn't quite fathom what would have made her do that. She wasn't afraid of death. She wasn't even afraid of pain—he'd seen how much it cost her to cast some of her spells. Sometimes it took so much out of her that she was weak and coughing up blood afterwards. Somehow, drinking to Ryan's brother scared her more than pain and death. Gourry shook his head again. One thing was certain. Seeing Lina go white and stammer in terror—well, he never wanted to see that again. He was her protector, and he'd keep her safe from anything—_anything_ that threatened her.

Lina froze. Then she sighed. "Jellyfish," she said affectionately, "I'm just getting you some breakfast." She started to pull the door open, then reconsidered, closing it and leaning her forehead against the whitewashed wood. "I'm sorry about yesterday," she said softly, her voice muffled, "but I really don't want to talk about it right now, okay?" She quickly left the room, without waiting for him to answer.

He wondered again what it was about Ryan's older brother that bothered her so much. Ryan had been just as clueless as him. All he knew was that Lina had habitually avoided Erik when they were children, although as they got older it had been less of an issue, especially after Erik left home to join a merc band.

The fact that she refused to talk about it just baffled him. Not that she talked much about her past, now that he thought about it . . . but he couldn't recall her ever flatly closing a subject like that. It seemed like she was deliberately trying to forget about whatever it was, and that also confused him. After all, she was always chewing him out for having a brain like a sifter . . . He shook his head. Although he was sure he could live without knowing what was bothering her, he had the distinct feeling that Lina wouldn't be able to keep this buried forever. She'd need to get it out of her system, and how else was she going to do that if she didn't talk about it? He wondered if there was a way for him to get her to talk, even if she didn't want to. Threats? No, she wouldn't take them seriously. Bribes? That might work, but what would tempt her? He didn't have anything particularly shiny, nothing magical . . . Food? No, she'd just steal his behind his back. Too bad he didn't still have the Sword of Light . . .

Thinking about the Sword of Light reminded him of his father's dagger. Gourry swung his legs over the edge of the bed, scanning the room. His things were neatly folded on a chair, the smaller version of the Sword of Light leaning against the wall right next to his sword. The dagger wasn't nearly as powerful as the Sword of Light, but it did hide a secret of its own—

Before he could get up to pick up the dagger, Lina bustled into the room, carrying a large tray burgeoning with food. The tantalizing odor of sausages, eggs, pancakes, and, yes, fresh-squeezed orange juice, banished all thoughts of Lina's odd behavior and family secrets.

* * *

Lina watched as Gourry enthusiastically tore into his breakfast. After a moment, he looked up. "Aren't you going to have any?" he asked around a mouthful of pancakes.

"Nah, I already ate," Lina answered as she snitched a sausage from his plate and stuffed it into her mouth.

"Suit yourself."

As Gourry devoured the food in front of him with single-minded determination, Lina considered the best way to approach the situation.

In mid-bite, he looked up at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What?" he asked after swallowing.

"Oh, nothing," she responded airily with a small wave of her hand.

Gourry's eyes narrowed even further. "You're looking at me funny," he said slowly, "and 'nothing' never is. C'mon, give."

Well, if he was going to insist . . . Lina smiled coyly, twining a strand of hair around her finger. She considered half a dozen openings, rejected each in turn, and finally settled on the one she thought was best. "Siebert really chewed me out last night." Actually, that was quite the understatement.

She watched Gourry struggle with that one for a bit, as he shoveled the rest of his breakfast down. "I don't get it," he admitted.

Lina continued, ignoring Gourry's comment for the moment. He'd get it soon enough, she thought. "Honestly, I think that man has been alone too long. He seems to think he can order me around just like Shella." She grimaced slightly. "You'd think I'd committed a crime or something the way he carried on. Apparently I was just supposed to go to the baths and then come back." She snorted, although she did feel a little chagrined. Siebert had been truly worried about them. Gourry had disappeared the night before—she'd been furious when she found out they'd hidden that piece of information from her that morning—and he hadn't heard from either of them all day long. Still, she didn't appreciate the lecture—okay, she'd been infuriated and had been about to start yelling. But right before she did, Siebert had given her the final piece to a puzzle she hadn't even realized she'd been putting together in her mind. "Once he'd finished berating me, he started in on you and Ryan." She stared pointedly at Gourry. "I guess he didn't like Shella seeing Ryan passed out like that." Again, that was putting it mildly. He'd been furious. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Shella was sweet on Ryan. "And he was pretty disappointed in you, too. He said something about you being bred better than that."

Lina was watching Gourry quite closely at that point, and although it was barely perceptible, he flinched. Lina pounced. "What did Siebert mean, Gourry?" She already knew what Siebert meant, but she wanted to see his reaction.

Gourry stared at her. His kept taking a breath as if about to say something, but he kept stopping himself before even getting a single word on it. After a few attempts, Lina took pity on him, and she started ticking items off on her fingers. "Let's see . . . you're apparently well-bred, you got a commission at a young age, your mother had enough time on her hands to weave a tapestry, and you have a family device. _And_, the leading magistrate of Sairaag was incredibly deferential to you." She shook her head in disgust. That had been a major clue, and she had just missed it. Well, not exactly, but she hadn't followed up on it, and it amounted to the same thing. "You're of the nobility, aren't you, Gourry?" she accused. "Or should I say _Lord_ Gabriev?"

"Well . . ." Gourry hesitated. It wasn't exactly a ringing endorsement, but it wasn't a denial, either.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Lina had stars in her eyes. "I've always wanted a castle of my own," she said with a grin. "I'm sure yours would do nicely, if it looks anything like the one in the tapestry . . . you are going to give it to me, right?" Lina pictured herself wearing one of those fancy dresses like Amelia wore when she was doing princess-type things. "It would make up for you not giving me the Sword of Light, after all," she pointed out as she did a pirouette in her imaginary dress. "I'll even share it with you!" _Oh, Lina, you're so generous!_

Lina was so intent on furnishing her new castle that she didn't even realize that Gourry hadn't actually said anything in quite some time. Her visions were shattered by the sound of crockery crashing to the ground. The remains of Gourry's breakfast were scattered everywhere, and Gourry was crouched over in a corner, his shoulders heaving. Strange sounds were coming from him, and Lina couldn't tell if he was retching or sobbing.

"Gourry?" she asked tentatively. Truth be told, she was more than a little scared, and she wasn't sure which was more frightening: the idea that he might be sick, or the idea that he might be crying.

He didn't answer, and as Lina moved closer, she quickly discovered that the reason she couldn't tell if he was retching or sobbing was because he was doing both. "Gourry?" she repeated his name as she gathered his hair back and pulled it out of his face. "Are you okay? Should I get Siebert?" She swallowed hard and tried not to panic, even though she'd never seen Gourry sick before. She looked around for a rag or something to wipe his face, but nothing was close at hand.

Gourry weakly shook his head, but she had no idea which of her questions he was trying to answer. Even after emptying out his stomach, and Lina was certain that he should be done, he continued to heave, although nothing came up. Between the strong acidic smell and the sounds he was making, Lina swallowed hard to prevent her own gorge from rising. She continued to pull back stray strands of hair with one hand, while she rubbed his back with her other. He couldn't keep this up forever, right? But, after a few moments, when he showed no signs of stopping, Lina decided that this was beyond her. "Siebert!" she bellowed at the top of her lungs, "Siebert!" She heard the heavy thud of footsteps approaching at a run, and she heaved a silent sigh of relief. "It's okay, Gourry," she said, thanking all the gods that they were so close to a healer. "It's gonna be okay."

The door banged open, and Siebert burst through. "What's wrong?" he demanded breathlessly.

"I don't know," Lina replied tensely. "He just started suddenly, and I don't think he can stop."

Siebert moved quickly to Gourry's other side. He placed a hand on Gourry's forehead, and sniffed at his vomit. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he got a chance, a strange bubbling sound came out of Gourry, in horrific counterpoint to the dry heaves that continued to wrack him. "Can you put him to sleep?" Siebert barked out, looking tense.

"I . . . I . . ." Lina gave up trying to make her voice work and settled for a quick nod.

"Do it!" Siebert's voice cracked like a whip.

A half a dozen emotions flooded through Lina in an instant at the sound of his voice. Panic was at the forefront—he was obviously very concerned about Gourry. Resentment—no one ordered her around like that. And a little bit of awe as well. Lina pushed all thoughts away. Right now, she needed the magic. It was a simple spell, really. One that wasn't taught at the Sorcerer's Guild—you had to come up with your own variant or not at all—but most aspiring sorcerers considered it a point of pride to learn the spell, and Lina had been no exception. Within moments, the dry heaves stopped and Gourry's weight started to collapse on her. Lina frantically tried to move out of his way without dumping him on the ground, noting with horror that he was still making that strange bubbling sound.

Fortunately, Siebert was there, and he quickly rolled Gourry off of her and onto his stomach. Lina watched him press on Gourry's back in a sort of rolling motion, starting from his waist and moving up along his spine, then repeating the motion, until Gourry's body jerked, and a thin line of frothy green slime drooled from his mouth. He started to cough weakly. Siebert stopped pressing and laid his ear against Gourry's back, listening intently.

After a very long moment, he stood up and looked at Lina, his face relaxed. "You can cast recovery on him, now, if you want." He bustled over to the wooden cabinets and started putting herbs in a small mortar.

Although she was bursting with questions, she knelt down beside Gourry. He had curled up into a fetal position, but he wasn't making that wet bubbling sound any more. For the second time that day, Lina cast the healing magic on him, and then she turned her attention to Siebert.

"Here," he said, thrusting a small bucket of water and a rag into her hands. "Help me clean up." He knelt beside Gourry, wiping around his mouth with a damp cloth.

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" Lina asked as she dunked the rag in the bucket and wrung it out, willing herself not to smell the vomit she was supposed to mop up.

"My best guess," Siebert said slowly, "would be a hangover."

"A hangover," Lina repeated dubiously. It sorta made sense. He had been drunk last night, after all. But . . . "He didn't seem that bad, just a bit headachy is all."

"There's no sign of infection or poison, though," Siebert pointed out. "It would be the logical conclusion . . ." he hesitated. ". . . except that he doesn't seem to be very dehydrated . . ." Siebert trailed off as he considered the problem.

"No poison?" Lina echoed Siebert again. "But what about that green stuff . . ." She trailed off as her stomach turned over in protest at the memory. Cleaning up this stuff was bad enough as it was. If she wasn't careful she'd be adding her own half-digested breakfast to the mess. As it was, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to eat sausage again for a very long time. There were so many half-chewed bits, and they were just as likely to crumble when she tried to mop them up.

"That?" Siebert dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "That wasn't poison. Somehow, Gourry started choking on his vomit-it was mostly just bile at that point-that's what came out of his mouth . . . Hopefully he didn't damage his lungs, although your spell should have taken care of that." He rinsed off his cloth in a small basin of water and looked over at Lina. "Are you almost done?"

"Oh, sure, leave me with the disgusting chore," Lina muttered under her breath, as she watched Siebert go back to fiddle with his herbs. He could've offered to help her, after all. But, the truth was, she was nearly done anyway. She gave the floor a final swipe, and then she dumped the bucket out the window. She turned around to find Siebert handing her yet another bucket and rag.

"Here, just wipe over the area with this, and then you can wash up in that basin, there."

Lina grumbled to herself, but she did as she was told. Whatever was in the water had a fresh scent, and it helped to counteract the acid and bile stench that was so strong in the corner. She found herself breathing deeply, trying to rid herself of the memory of those smells. While she cleaned herself off, Siebert slowly dribbled liquid into Gourry's mouth.

"What're you giving him?" Lina asked as she vigorously scrubbed her hands up to the elbows.

"Just something to help restore his strength, combined with a mild sedative," Siebert replied.

"Why?" It hardly seemed necessary, if he just had a hangover. Although she still didn't completely buy that explanation. Gourry hadn't just been sick; she was pretty sure that he had been sobbing as well. She felt a cold hand clamp around her heart.

"Because I don't want him flailing about until I'm sure that his lungs are fine," Siebert replied, distracting her from her thoughts. "Just a precaution is all."

Lina stared at him. "You sure don't take any chances, do you?" Although, considering how long he'd made her stay in bed, all the medicine he'd made her swallow, and how he'd reamed her for "overdoing it" yesterday, Lina thought she was putting it mildly.

Siebert gravely returned her look. "I'm a healer. Taking chances can put my patient at risk."

"Gourry & I almost never get this kind of care, you know," Lina pointed out. "I can't remember the last time I spent days convalescing."

"Well, can you remember the last time you got sliced open with a poisoned and diseased blade?"

Lina shook her head. She didn't want to have this conversation right now. There was something far more important she needed to know from Siebert. "You knew Gourry, before." It wasn't a question. "Didn't you."

* * *

A cool slim hand tenderly smoothed hair away from his brow. It felt vaguely familiar, but his head felt thick and muzzy, and trying to figure out how or why such a touch would be familiar seemed to require too much effort. So he just sighed a bit and turned his head into the touch.

"Gourry?" A soft voice by his ear.

"Mmm . . ." Talking also seemed to require more effort than he could be bothered to spare.

"How do you feel?"

How did he feel? He felt . . . strange . . . sleepy, but not tired . . . or was it the other way around? And there was something . . . something that he was supposed to be doing? No, that didn't feel right. Something . . .

"Gourry?" The voice sounded a bit sharper than before—it was Lina, he realized suddenly, and she sounded unhappy. Why did his head feel so thick? He knew he wasn't a genius or anything, but trying to think didn't usually feel like he was pushing through bales of wool. One thought came through, though, with almost painful clarity. Lina was upset. And he had to protect her.

He forced heavy eyes open. "Lina? What's wrong?"

A single tear snaked its way across her cheek, and she shook her head. "You jellyfish," she accused. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Her words echoed through his mind, breaking through the woolen layers and loosing those memories that had been lurking at the edge of awareness for days now—since finding the tapestry. A terrified servant—he was just a cook's assistant—on the edge of death; half of his face was badly burnt, but he had escaped to bring two things. A message: his home destroyed; his family slaughtered. And a sword: his family's pride—a blade he would gladly exchange to have them back again.

Disbelief and shock. He had to see for himself. There had to be some kind of mistake, didn't there? Who would attack his family? How could this happen? And where were their allies, their vassals, those sworn to protect? He had vague impressions of obtaining his release from the mercenary band, and setting off on his own—the lone escapee had died, his message and precious package delivered. The trip home was a nightmare. He would run until he could run no further, collapse into an exhausted sleep, only to be awakened by nightmares of the unknown that awaited him, and he would run and run and run . . .

He was vaguely aware that he was crying. That Lina was holding him and stroking his hair, murmuring to him. But he was caught in the grips of the memory of that morning. Before he topped the rise, he had known that at least part of what the servant had told him was true. For days he had seen the smoke, too thick to be from a simple fire, too sparse and constant to be a burning forest. He told himself over and over that the servant could have exaggerated. But what he saw convinced him that the servant hadn't given him the full of it.

Gabriev Keep was no more. The wooden palisade that surrounded the keep was mostly gone; what remained was charred and smoldering. It wouldn't have kept a herd of sheep contained, let alone prevent an external attack. The once-white tower was also charred with smoke, what was left of it, that was. One side had been completely smashed into rubble.

Perhaps the worst thing that he saw—the thing that chilled him to the bone—was the lack of activity. How many days had it been? He'd lost count, but surely, it had been long enough for them to clean up, for the dead to be buried and the fires put out, for the rebuilding to start. The only movement came from huge black clouds of raucously cawing ravens feasting and fighting each other for choice morsels. His empty stomach heaved once again from the memory. Family, friends, all were now fodder for the scavengers.

Somehow, he had made it to the keep, where he was greeted with the sight of his father and brother's severed heads and hands staked up on pikes in front of the shattered bridge that led from bailey to motte. At least, he was pretty sure they were his father and brother. The eyes had been pecked out, and what flesh remained on them was in tatters, victim of the ravens' feeding. The only identifier was the long blond hair, some still clinging to scraps of flesh on the skull, most of it scattered in patches on the ground below the grisly trophies.

Gourry quietly wept, burying his face in Lina's hair. If only that were the worst of it. In the remains of the kitchen, he had found the remains of his father and brother's corpses . . . his stomach lurched again, and he tried to shut out the memory.

"Sshh," Lina soothed him, her hands surprisingly tender as they smoothed his hair. He could hear the tears in her voice. "It's over now, it's long past."

"Someone ate them!" The words burst forth, accompanied by the overpowering image of the two naked bodies, headless and handless, their skin browned and crackling. They were laid out on huge platters in the center of the table. A sharp knife embedded in the table had carved meat off the bone of arms and legs in neat slices—some pieces were still sitting on the pewter plates set around the edge of the table. "Someone cooked my father and brother and carved them like they were cattle!"

He heard Lina's hissed intake of breath.

There was no one alive in the entire tower. The villagers who had lived on the bailey were gone. Dead or fled, probably some of both. He would never know. There were so many bodies. Some partially burned. Some hacked and mutilated. Men. Women. Children. Old and young. Left to rot in the sun like so much garbage while flies crawled around in their innards, spawned in the dark shadows of empty eye-sockets.

He didn't know how long it took. Time ceased to have any meaning. He worked, digging graves in the tamped earth of the bailey. He slept. He woke and dug more graves. He was the only one left. He was the Lord's son. It was his final duty, his final obligation. And when it was finished, he left. No more a lord's son. He would get rid of the Sword of Light—it was all that was left. The keep had been gutted, everything had been taken, except for the dead. There was just him, and the Sword, and once he threw it into the sea, there would just be him. Just Gourry.

"Just me," he whispered. "Everyone else dead or gone. Everything taken or destroyed. Just me left."

"Oh, Gourry," Lina whispered back. "I'm so sorry."

"You know what's worst, though?" he asked, his voice still no louder than a whisper. "The worst is that I wasn't there. They all died, and I wasn't there."

Lina didn't answer right away. The hand that had stroked his hair slowed and then stilled. "If you had been there . . ." She paused and took a deep breath. "Gourry, if you had been there . . . you might have . . . you might have died, too." Her arms tightened around him.

She was right. He knew that she was. It didn't help, though. It didn't explain how such a thing could happen. It didn't lessen the feeling that he should have been there to help, to protect the weak, to his death, if need be.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" she whispered.

"What was I supposed to say?" he demanded harshly. "'Hey, Lina, by the way, my whole family was killed. Can you pass the potatoes?'"

She flinched back away from him, and instantly, he regretted speaking to her like that. "I'm . . . I'm sorry," he said, dropping his head. "The truth is . . . I didn't want to think about it. So I didn't." After his abortive attempt to get rid of the Sword of Light, he had wandered a bit, looking for a purpose. Eventually he had found Lina. By that time, he had stopped seeing the Sword of Light as a painful reminder, and saw it as his family's legacy. It was as if somehow, by defeating great evil with it, he was also avenging them. It helped ease the ache.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry," Lina said quietly. "All the hints were there in front of me. I should have realized there was a reason why you, and Sylphiel," she added as an afterthought, "didn't want to talk about it. Even Siebert was pretty evasive."

"Siebert told you?" That surprised Gourry.

"No," Lina said quickly. "Not really. Just today. You were so upset. I didn't know what to do. I knew Siebert knew you from before, so I asked him if something had happened. All he'd say was that if I didn't know, he wasn't going to be the one to tell me. He was kinda upset, though, so I knew it couldn't be good."

So Siebert hadn't said anything, then. For some reason, that made him feel better. It was his story, after all. He didn't like the idea of a stranger talking about the horrors of his past. And for all that Siebert had been at Gabriev Keep briefly, and had known Gourry as a boy, he was still mostly a stranger, as nice as he was.

Gourry took a shaky breath and pushed himself up off of the cot. He'd put this off long enough. Now was as good a time as any.

"What are you doing?" Lina asked. Her voice was still subdued.

"This." Gourry picked up the dagger he'd claimed from Ryan the night before.

"Your father's dagger?"

"Yeah." Holding the blade at an angle over the cot, he pressed on a hidden stud, and the blade came free, thunking into the blanket.

Lina gasped. "Is it . . . is it like the Sword of Light, then? I thought there were only five—"

"Not exactly," Gourry cut her off. "It was made to look like the Sword of Light, to be half of a matched set."

His father should have carried both this weapon and the Sword of Light in the final battle that claimed his life. Gourry had never been able to figure out how the servant who had found him had managed to get the blade to him. He held his breath as he gently shook the empty hilt over the cot. Two objects fell out. One was his father's signet ring, stained with blood. The other was an intricately braided coil of hair, bound on each end with a blue silk thread.

Gourry snatched up the braid with a shocked intake of breath. "That's . . . that's impossible!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Lina asked. "What's wrong?"

The braid was made up of four distinct strands of hair. Two of them, both corn-silk blond, were dry and brittle, and had frayed when he picked up the coil. The other two, one a mate to the other two in color, and one a pale strawberry blonde, were supple and shiny. He shook his head in disbelief, but his eyes gave him the same image.

"What is it?" Lina repeated, a bit more insistently.

He barely even heard Lina as he stared at the braid in his hand. It couldn't be . . . he'd searched the entire keep. He'd pulled bodies from the wreckage of the keep—burned and badly damaged, but he'd been so sure . . . His mother couldn't be alive . . . could she?

---------------

AN: First, I have to acknowledge that Gourry's phrase, "'nothing' never is" was borrowed from something Filing Sloth said to me (as he pointed out when he beta-read this chapter): "'Nothing' is the scariest thing a woman can ever say, because it never means 'nothing'." Real life continues to intrude on the story, this time in the form of sick children (if you wondered where I got all that lovely vivid imagery from . . . well, wonder no more).

Thanks go out again to Filing Sloth for beta-reading, and for letting me steal a page from his act, the Reviewer Response!

'Sloth: I guess you can steal from me, since I'm stealing the reviewer response from you!

RM: I have to say, your review came at just the perfect time, and it lifted my spirits so much, I rediscovered the urge to push this story again, instead of letting it languish in the back of my mind.

Tom: I'm glad you're enjoying all the little plot threads that dribble out! I must admit, I've been eagerly looking forward to writing this latest little twist!

Stara: I know I've said it before, but your reviews are always such a pleasure to read! Lina would've had quite a few choice words for Gourry after he let Elfred go, but she keeps getting distracted by other more pressing concerns!

* * *


	10. Rain, Rain, Go Away!

**Flam Gush 10**

Lina ground her teeth in frustration. They were on their way back to Deremar's keep, for lack of a better plan, although it was the last thing Gourry wanted to do. He was hell-bent on tracking down his mother—even though the only clue they had was a strand of her hair. Lina had easily detected the magical aura. It was a simple enough spell: life-energy focused on the hair gave an automatic "life" detector. The exact reason for doing such a thing was beyond her, though. So what if you had something to tell you if someone was alive or dead? If you were there, you would know, and if not, well, you were kind of helpless to do anything, either way. Lina thought it would make a lot more sense to have a warning device that would tell you if your loved ones were in danger. At least that way you could maybe do something about the situation. But when she asked Gourry about the purpose of putting magicked hair in the pommel of a dagger, he just gave her a clueless look—the one that always made her teeth itch.

At any rate, right after he realized that his mother was alive, Gourry's first reaction was to drop everything and run off to find her. Lina grit her teeth yet again. She only had the vaguest idea of what had happened to Gourry's family. She knew that his father and brother were dead—her stomach clenched at the thought of somebody eating them—but that was about it. Even under the influence of Siebert's sedative, Gourry had been pretty upset, and Lina was almost positive that plaguing him with questions was the worst thing she could do. In spite of that, she really wished she had more details. Actually, that was putting it rather mildly. She was going slowly insane. She knew she was missing all the pieces to the problem, but she kept thinking that if she could put them all together in just the right way, everything would make sense. So far, the solution eluded her, and the fact that it dangled right beyond her reach added insult to aggravation.

On top of everything else, her new clothes were rough, and they chafed something awful. Every time she shrugged or twisted to relieve the pinching in one spot, something would dig in somewhere else. She knew it was just a matter of breaking them in, and all they needed was a couple of thorough washings, but that did little to improve her current mood. She glared at Gourry's back, knowing it was foolish, but he had picked out the clothes, after all.

"Don't do that, Lina." Gourry said quietly. It was the first he had spoken since setting out for Deremar's several hours earlier.

"What?"

"Glare at me like that."

"What makes you think I was glaring at you?"

"You suddenly started stomping," Gourry replied with a shrug as he turned around to look at her. "And, I got this prickly feeling between my shoulders, too."

Lina felt prickly on her back, too, but not because someone was glaring at her. It was the stupid bra straps. Why had she ever envied Amelia for her "proper" underwear? Her old yellow bandeau had been so much more comfortable! She glanced up at the cloud-covered sky, wondering how much longer she could take this before the urge to blow something up became overpowering. Where were the bandit gangs when you needed them?

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Lina snapped back in annoyance, absentmindedly scratching at her throat. Even her cloak seemed to be chafing uncomfortably.

Gourry looked at her, his eyes tracing the path of her fingers, making her feel self-conscious, so she dropped her hand to her side. She opened her mouth to tell him to stop looking at her like that, but before she got the words out, she heard the distant peal of thunder.

"Looks like there's a storm coming," Gourry pointed out, glancing over her shoulder.

Lina grunted noncommittally as she turned to take a look. Although it was just overcast in front of them, dark clouds roiled behind them, and she felt the breeze pick up. Great. Just lovely. On top of everything else, it looked like she could add slogging through the rain to today's list of aggravations. She turned back to Gourry, but he had already started walking again. After staring at his back for a few seconds, Lina shrugged and half-jogged to catch up to him.

They walked along in a strained silence. Half a dozen times, Lina considered apologizing, but she talked herself out of it each time. She had no idea exactly why she should apologize. If anyone was owed an apology around her, it was probably her. Here she was, stumbling around half-blind—in more ways than one, she thought in annoyance, as she pushed her sodden hair out of her face for the umpteenth time. She had no clear target, no clear objective. In fact, that was the problem—how was she supposed to deal with everything that had come up? Left to her own devices, she would head straight for the Elmekian Empire and find out who had destroyed Gourry's home and family. Then she would hunt them down and make them pay. Whoever they were, they would rue the day they crossed Lina Inverse! Unfortunately, there were two problems with that plan. First, Gourry was oddly reluctant to head towards Elmekia, even though it seemed the most logical place to start, as far as she was concerned. And second, she needed more information, and for the life of her, she had no idea how to get it without hurting Gourry.

The truth was, Lina felt guilty for bringing the whole thing up about his lineage in the first place. Not that it was her fault, at least not exactly . . . okay, maybe it was her fault . . . at least a bit. Gourry could have told her, but he had chosen not to. And then she had pushed him, so full of her own little fantasies she was oblivious to his reactions . . . That was the part that kept nagging at her. She had no way of knowing that talking about his title would upset him—she knew that—but she should have noticed. There was simply no excuse. Now, she had no idea what to say. And, apparently, neither did Gourry . . . not that that was unusual . . . . They had said little to each other over the past day or so, just argued about where to head next. She hated feeling this way: awkward, like she was walking on eggshells and had to choose her words carefully. But, since she had no idea how to fix it, she held her silence. It did little to improve her mood, though.

Neither did the big fat raindrops that were starting to fall. Within moments, the rain moved from sporadic to downpour, turning the dirt path they were following into a slushy quagmire. Lina stopped thinking about feeling awkward and guilty at that point and focused on watching her footing. She had absolutely no control over how drenched she was getting, but she could do her best to avoid taking a tumble in the mud.

By evening, the rain showed no signs of letting up, and she and Gourry were soaked from head to toe. If she thought her clothes had chafed before, it was nothing to the way they were binding and sticking now. She felt like she was carrying Amelia piggy-back, and her boots squelched with each step she took. This was not what she had in mind, when she had thought of giving her new clothes a thorough washing. As she concentrated on placing one foot in front of the other, her only coherent thought was a vague memory of once upon a time, when she had been dry.

* * *

Gourry glanced across the fire as Lina stripped out of her wet clothes. By some stroke of luck, they had stumbled across a small woodcutter's shack. It was little more than a hovel, but it was snug and dry, and under the circumstances, far better than sleeping out in the rain. Her back was turned toward him, and she was in the process of peeling off her leggings. They clung to her like a second skin, and she was grunting in frustration. He turned his attention back to his armor. The last thing he needed was for the leather straps to dry the wrong way. At best, they would chafe until they stretched back into the right shape. At worst, he would need to get them replaced, and neither prospect appealed to him. 

Although he had trouble putting his finger on the reason, he felt angry. Not with Lina, but angry nonetheless. Frustrated to realize his mother was still alive, after all this time. For years, he had believed her dead, along with his father and brother, and everyone else. What was her life like, now? He knew what men did with captured women. Rank was no protection from . . . He shook his head violently, refusing to consider the possibility. He wanted to keep his memories of his mother pure, not sullied by sordid and brutal images. Where was she now? Was she a common slave? Someone's trophy? Something worse? Had she been waiting for him to find her? All he knew for certain was that he had failed. And that failure was tantamount to betrayal of his blood.

Betrayal. It was an ugly word. An even uglier feeling. Who was the woman he had buried next to his father and brother? A maid? A cook? One of his mother's ladies? Not that it really mattered. None of it changed the fact that he had somehow mistaken another woman for his mother, abandoning her to some unknown fate. Unknown . . . no, he knew. His imagination was only too eager to whisper suggestions to his mind. He shook his head violently, yet again, trying to purge the images. Betrayal. He had failed his family, failed his blood. Now, he was flailing about blindly, and it was too little, too late. What could they hope to find at Deremar's? The only thing that was there was the tapestry and a town out for their blood . . .

He finished working oil into the last of the leather straps on his armor, and started arranging it near the fire when Lina started to mutter furiously under her breath. Although her words were indistinct, it was clear she was anything but happy, and he glanced up to see her struggling with the clasp on her new bra. He felt another surge of anger, and this time the feeling was directed at Lina. They were alone—really alone—for the first time in who knows how long, and here they were, on either side of the fire, barely speaking to each other, and Lina had her back turned to him. Why was it that right after he finally got her to open up to him, to acknowledge the feelings they had for each other, they suddenly run into her former lover?

Ryan obviously still had strong feelings for Lina, in spite of being dumped by her. And Lina, just as obviously was carrying around a lot of baggage related to Ryan, but he could not for the life of him figure out what it was. Something about the entire situation was just off. There was a certain wistfulness about her whenever she was around Ryan, a certain sense of . . . regret? Yes, that was it. It was so unlike her. She never looked back. That was a source of her strength. But now . . . all he knew was that she refused to talk to him—about anything. He was so used to hearing her chatter on about whatever, even if his thoughts tended to wander whenever she talked. This brooding silence, on top of everything else, was setting him on edge.

With a vicious oath, Lina gave up on the clasp, and started rooting through her clothes, looking for something. In one smooth motion, Gourry stood up, closed the small gap between them and unhooked her bra, slipping the straps off her shoulders. He could see red welts from where they had dug into her flesh. Lina snatched up her discarded chemise and covered her front, which only served to heighten his annoyance. Gourry knew he should back away from her before he did something stupid, but instead, he ran a finger down her back, tracing the length of her spine. Lina shivered, and he saw the gooseflesh rise on her arms, but she gave no other outward reaction.

For the life of him, he could not figure her out. The moment stretched. Lina stopped breathing and he was hunkering down behind her, close enough to touch her, but not touching her. What did she want? Did she just wish he would go away? Maybe she did. Her shoulders were slightly hunched and drawn together. But it was so unlike Lina to just let things happen to her. If she wanted him to go away, all she had to do was say so. He hated seeing her sit there doing nothing. He wanted her to do something, say something, anything would be better than seeing her like this.

Gourry slammed his fist into the floor, and Lina flinched, and then curled herself into a ball, wrapping her arms around her knees and hiding her face. Her damp hair shimmered in the firelight, forming a curtain around her body.

How could he get her to talk?

"Tell me about that Shabadingo guy." The words popped out before Gourry even had a chance to realize what he was saying.

"What?" Lina stared at him incredulously over her shoulder.

"You know, that guy who cut the other guy into pieces? Shaba-something-or-other, right?" Gourry prompted, feeling mildly encouraged. Somehow, he had managed to surprise her, and she was at least reacting more like normal self.

Her brow furrowed for an instant. "Shabra_nigdo_," she responded almost automatically. "His name is Shabranigdo, and he wasn't just 'some guy.'" She paused, and then turned her head back to face the wall, which also meant that she was looking away from him. She pulled her chemise on and then turned to face him, her eyes hard. "You don't want to know about Shabranigdo," she said flatly.

Gourry felt a cold hand clamp around his heart. He had never seen Lina turn that particular look on him, as if she was ready to do battle. Well, it was an improvement over the flinching and hiding, but not by much. "No," he said after a moment, struggling to keep his tone even. "I could care less about Shabra-what's-his-face."

Lina flushed with anger. "Why don't you just say what you really mean, then?" She asked harshly. "Ask me the question you really want the answer to." She looked so tight and brittle, kneeling opposite him, as if she might shatter into a thousand pieces if something brushed past her.

She had given him the opening he had been seeking for days. But now, as she glared balefully at him, the words refused to come.

While holding her gaze, Gourry reached under his tunic and pulled out his father's signet ring. He had been wearing it on a leather thong tied around his neck—it just felt wrong to wear it on his hand, as if he was claiming something that was not his right. The ring was large and ostentatious anyways, appropriate for the lord of the keep. It was heavy gold worked with niello, and set with a large deep blue sapphire. Without looking at the ring, he untied the thong that held it around his neck and placed it on the floor between them.

Lina stared at him. The fire cracked and popped in counter-point to the rain drumming steadily upon the roof, as the anger drained out of her and a kaleidoscope of emotions flicked across her face: pain, sorrow, curiosity, hope . . . and then, nothing. She stretched out her hand, but just before she touched the ring, she froze in the act of reaching out, then her hand curled into a soft fist, and she pulled it back half way. Gourry felt the cold hand clamped around his heart turn to ice, and the moment stretched out. Finally, her face softened ever so slightly. "Do you know what you're asking?" she whispered.

Gourry felt his heart start to beat faster against the ice that gripped it. He had managed to surprise her, that much was certain. Whatever she thought he was going to ask, clearly this was not it. But her question also took him by surprise. Did he know what he was asking? Oh, he knew, and he nodded once in response. He wanted her: to be with him, to stay with him, and for her to know. The ring was a symbol, really, for the words he left unsaid. The silence stretched out between them, and he could see the wheels turning in her head, see her considering.

Finally, she broke the silence. "It was your father's ring, right?" she asked simply. "His signet, right?"

Gourry nodded again.

"If I take this ring, your father's ring," she said slowly, "I'll be taking a lot more than a trinket." She swallowed, then licked her lips, her eyes boring into his.

He wondered if she truly understood what he was trying to do. Actually, he wondered if he himself truly understood what he was trying to do. He just wanted everything out in the open. His secrets, her secrets. Yes, that was a part of it, but only a small part. He wanted them to be comfortable again. They had no chance of doing anything about his mother or Deremar if they kept dancing around each other.

Lina swallowed again, but she maintained eye contact. "But, I've already got the protection of the Gabrievs," she pointed out, "because you've already sworn to be my protector." Her eyes softened a bit more, and he felt the ice clamped around his heart melt in response. "It's the one thing you've never forgotten in all the time we've been together." She hesitated briefly. "So, there must be more to it than that."

Was there more? He shook his head ever so slightly, as half-remembered stories of knights pledging their troth to sighing ladies with a ring insinuated themselves into his thoughts. He had always wondered what a troth was. Did Lina want his troth? He felt the slightest hint of panic, because if that was the case, he was in trouble. He sincerely doubted that Lina would be happy if he asked her flat out.

"_Say_ something." There was just the faintest hint of frustration in her voice. "I want you to tell me _exactly_ what you think you're asking me to do."

"First, will you answer a question for me?" Gourry stalled, trying to gather his wits. What had he gotten himself into? First, they were not talking, then they were fighting, then Lina was acting normal, and now she was mad again.

"That depends on the question," she replied evenly, but the hard edge was back again.

He opened his mouth to ask her what a troth was, but changed his mind at the last second. "What's the deal between you and Ryan?" he blurted out, regretting the question almost immediately as Lina blanched. Maybe he should have stuck with the troth, after all.

* * *

Lina recoiled visibly from Gourry's question. It was the one she had steeled herself for initially, before he had placed his father's ring on the dirt floor between them. That had certainly taken her by surprise, and she felt a welter of conflicting emotions. There it was again, the specter of marriage. Was it a good thing or a bad thing? Both. Neither. The only problem was that she had no idea if Gourry knew what offering the ring meant. Stupid jellyfish. When the guy offered the ring to the girl, it usually meant a marriage proposal. Everyone knew that. But Gourry was notorious for not knowing what everyone knew. She wanted to hear him say it. She wanted to be _sure_, not just about the symbolic nature of the exchange, but also that he understood what he was asking of her. No more misunderstandings about boiled eggs and whatnot. She wanted it all spelled out, for both of them. But first . . . would she answer the question he had asked? The one she had been dreading? 

She had absolutely no desire to talk about it. She had told him that. She did not want to _think_ about it. She hated the hot burning feeling—panic—that danced at the edge of her thoughts whenever she nudged too close to the memories of that time, when Ryan had broken their engagement. She felt a flare of anger, and she seized the emotion. Gourry may think he wanted to know the story about her and Ryan, but she seriously doubted he was ready for the truth. Oh, but this time, she was going to answer, and Gourry could just deal with the consequences.

"Ryan was my fiancé." Four simple words, but saying them made her feel like someone had shoved a hooked knife through her navel and was slowly pulling her guts out.

Gourry's reaction surprised her yet again. He nodded slightly in a vaguely distracted way, and then he shook his head. "I know that already," he said slowly.

"You . . . you knew?" Lina asked in shock. "Then why'd you bother asking?" She felt her blood begin to boil. He knew? But he was still going to make her talk about it? Why? And underneath that, she felt . . . humiliated. Ryan had told him, obviously. Who else? Just how had he described his rejection of the annoying flat-chested under-developed runt of the village?

"Lina." He took a deep breath and stretched his hand out towards her, but she just batted it away. His eyes hardened. "Just what is going on?" he demanded. "Look at you. You're a total mess."

"Nothing's going on." Lina said flatly, glaring at Gourry. Just what was he suggesting?

Gourry glared right back. "Don't give me that. You haven't been acting yourself ever since we ran into him."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Never mind the fact that she had come to that conclusion herself a couple of days ago. Hearing it coming from Gourry, like an accusation, was totally different.

"It means that you haven't been acting like yourself," Gourry repeated, with a slight edge to his voice.

"What would you know about it?" Lina demanded vehemently as she clenched her hands into fists and resisted the sudden urge to slap him. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. And failed miserably. She vaulted to her feet and started pacing back and forth in the tiny little hut, feeling for all the world like a caged animal.

"I don't know!" Gourry grabbed her arm and forced her to look at him. "You tell me."

Lina tried to wrench her arm away, but even though Gourry's grip was rather loose, she had no success. "Let. Go." Lina spit out through clenched teeth.

"No," Gourry said flatly, as his fingers clenched spasmodically into her arm. "Why won't you talk to me," he asked, almost desperately, but Lina was too furious to really notice.

"Maybe because you're being a bastard," Lina shot back.

"You watch the woman you love work herself into a frenzy over the former lover she dumped, while he sniffs after her like she's a bitch in heat and see how _you_ act," Gourry bit out.

Lina felt the blood drain out of her face, and she heard a roaring sound in her ears. "What did you just call me?" She asked in a deadly quiet voice. Outside, thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, and the steady beat of rain on the roof intensified. "Let me go _this second_ or you won't live to regret it."

"I'm not letting go," Gourry answered stubbornly, although his grip on her arm did ease up a bit.

Lina stared at Gourry incredulously, and she suddenly felt unsure, even a little afraid. Not so much of Gourry, but very much about where they were heading. Had he ever stood up to her like this? Not that she remembered, but then again, she had no clear recollection of ever threatening him, either. And it had been a threat. Why was she threatening Gourry? Because he called her a bitch?

A wave of ice crashed over her as she realized what Gourry had actually said: that _she_ had dumped Ryan. She shook her head in confusion. No, must have heard wrong. Or Gourry had his facts muddled. That was the most likely explanation. Stupid Jellyfish was never paying attention.

"Lina?" Gourry's voice was very gentle, in marked contrast to his tone just a moment ago. She looked up at him. He was still angry: she could see it in his eyes. But underneath the anger was sadness . . . and fear. Fear of her? No, she realized almost immediately. It was fear for her. She closed her own eyes, wondering what he saw in hers.

"Talk to me." He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let it out slowly. "Please."

"Can't you just let it go?" Lina whispered. "It's done. Gone. Over."

"It's not that . . . I don't know." Gourry shook his head. "I just don't get it. Look at you!" He gestured with his free hand. "You're as white as a sheet, squirming this way and that. Why?" He spoke softly, but intently. "What's gotten into you? I've never seen you act this way before. I've never seen you hesitate like this! I just want . . . I just want you to talk to me!"

"I don't want to talk about it!" Lina felt the flames licking at the edge of her mind, and she clamped both hands to her head, desperately trying to force them back. "No," she moaned, begging. "No, please. Don't . . ."

"Lina?" Gourry pulled at her hands, with a note of panic in his voice, but Lina could hear nothing over the roar behind her ears.

"It burns!" She screamed out, as the flames engulfed her. A kaleidoscope of disconnected images raced before her eyes, all overlaid with a bright orange-red. She could feel the heat around her, inside, outside. Ryan smiling at her over his shoulder. A feeling of guilt, of unworthiness. A barn turning into an inferno. Shhh. Sis putting a dagger into her hand and lecturing her about control. Purification in a tub of freezing water. Pain. Intense pressure squeezed from all sides. It wanted out. Now!

A crash. An explosion. Yes, YES!

A harsh voice cried out, a sharp crack, and pain blossomed in her cheeks.

"Lina! Stop!" Lina became dimly aware that Gourry was calling her. He was _slapping_ her.

She shook her head, and awareness came flooding back. The small shack they were in was engulfed in flames. She could smell the sickening aroma of singed hair, and she realized that she was on fire. _Gourry_ was on fire. With a gasp, she reached for the magic, "Mosu Varimu!"

Almost instantly, the flames disappeared, leaving the two of them in complete darkness. The rain continued to beat on the roof, and the smell of smoke was over powering. Lina collapsed to the floor, where the air was marginally clearer. She gasped for breath, feeling as though she had just run for miles, and tried to figure out what had just happened.

* * *

All anger was forgotten. Gourry was terrified. He listened to Lina gasping for breath, smelled the acrid smoke, felt the slight pain of burned flesh. And thanked the gods that they were still alive. One minute, Lina had been pleading with him, the next moment, she screamed and burst into flames. He wished he could forget the way she had looked. First, she clenched her head between her hands, whimpering uncontrollably. Then her eyes had rolled back in her head, so all he could see were the whites, gleaming in the firelight as she screamed something about being burned. An instant later, flames started rolling off her body, jetting out in all directions from her body, and turning the woodcutter's shack into an inferno. Her initial shrieks had modulated into low groans, and she sounded like a woman in the throes of childbirth. And then, as the flames bathed her body, she started moaning in a sultry way. Had they been making love, it would have been incredibly gratifying. The fact that it was the fire caressing her, well it made them obscene. 

He had slapped her then. Mostly to make her aware of what she was doing, but also because he could not bear to hear her moans. Her eyes had flown open, and the flames caressing her body died down immediately, but she had already set the wooden walls of the shack on fire, and it was burning uncontrollably. As soon as her awareness returned, though, she put out the fire almost as a reflex, and then collapsed to the floor in a boneless heap.

"What happened," she asked dully, after she got her breath back.

"I'm not sure," he hedged, kneeling down next to her. He could make out the shadow of her outline now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark.

She sighed a bit and leaned unerringly into him. He swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat and gently enfolded her in his arms, stroking her hair.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into his chest.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry," he replied softly.

"Mmm. That feels nice." She sighed again, and her breathing eased into a steady pattern. He was almost convinced that she was asleep, and then she spoke again. "There's really nothing between me and Ryan," she said softly as she twined her fingers in his shirt. "He broke it off so long ago . . ." She trailed off, and when her breathing slowed, he was certain she was asleep.

As for himself, he was afraid to go to sleep. The image of Lina bursting into flames replayed itself over and over again in his mind. With a small sigh, he arranged Lina and covered her with a blanket. She had put out the fire before it could do too much damage. Some of their gear was singed, but most of it had been too wet to burn badly. He considered starting another fire, but decided against it. All things considered, the idea of a fire just did not seem too terribly comforting at the moment. Instead, he lay down on a blanket near to Lina. She murmured something unintelligible and snuggled up to him.

Gourry pillowed his head with a crooked arm and stared unseeing at the ceiling above. The rain had tapered off, and it was no louder than a gentle soothing patter, but it did little to calm the chaos of his thoughts.

First and foremost, it was clear that something had happened to Lina. Something that she was terrified to remember. Something associated with Ryan or his brother, or maybe both. What had she said right before falling asleep? That _Ryan_ had broken off their engagement? He must have heard her wrong. Not that it would be the first time . . . he thought he had heard her right, but . . .

Before a few days ago—had it only been a few days?—if someone had told him that Lina was capable of panic, he would have thought they had a screw loose. Had he ever even seen her upset? Angry, certainly. Indignant, furious, and prone to violence. But crying? No, not that he could remember. Now, she had panicked . . . what was it? Twice? In as many days? Something like that. Why now? He closed his eyes, and tried to shake the image of flames rolling over Lina's body, caressing her and burning him.

Why had he asked Lina about Ryan, in the first place? It was stupid. Or maybe he was stupid. He was sure Lina would think so. They had been together all this time, and it had never been an issue. Honestly, Gourry could care less that Lina had been Ryan's fiancée. Like she said, that was in the past. She was still with him, even after running into Ryan. It was really weird seeing her act so awkward and wistful whenever she was around Ryan. But it was kind of neat, too. It was a different side of Lina—strange, but still her. And whatever was between her and Ryan, she never gave any indication that she regretted the way things had turned out. She had left Ryan behind easily enough, without even saying goodbye, in fact. When he suggested that she let Ryan know they were leaving, she had given him the most peculiar look, like she was genuinely surprised.

And yet, despite all that, it did matter. Not Ryan so much, or even whatever it was that she was so afraid of. It was the results. Over the past few days, he had found it harder and harder to read Lina. She had withdrawn away from him, and to be perfectly honest, he had withdrawn a bit as well. He should have recognized that she was on the verge of some breaking point. He had seen it easily enough a few days ago, when Ryan pushed her about his brother. But not today. Today, he had been all but oblivious to it. Neither of them was thinking straight, and that was dangerous. In more ways than one. It was more than a stupid fight. If he had trouble reading Lina, what would happen when they faced battle again? They were heading back to Deremar's, and judging from the last time they were there, he doubted they would face a warm welcome. Distractions under those circumstances could have fatal consequences. He shuddered as a sudden sense of foreboding rushed through him.

"Hmmm?" Lina mumbled, picking up her head. "'S wrong?"

"Nothing," he murmured, putting his arm around her and tugging her back down.

"Mmm." She pillowed her head on his shoulder and dropped back into sleep.

Gourry wrinkled his nose a bit at the strong odor of singed hair. One thing was certain. Singed hair or no, as long as Lina was by his side, things would work out. Somehow. Eventually. They had to. Right?

* * *

Something smelled awful. Honestly, she had paid good money for this room. The least they could do is freshen it out. Lina opened her eyes, squinting a bit against the sun, and she realized two things: she had not, in fact, paid good money for this room at all, and she was the one who reeked. She sat up, gently disentangling herself from Gourry. It was rare that she woke up before he did. She smoothed his hair gently away from his face, and suppressed a hiss. His face and arms were all a bright red. It looked like a nasty sunburn. Well, he had been between her and the fire last night. She smiled, albeit a bit sadly, as she cast a healing spell. After she was done, his brow smoothed, and his breathing settled into a steadier pattern. He had obviously been asleep for quite some while. 

Lina, on the other hand, was wide-awake. She glanced around the room, noticing the scorch marks. How their fire had gone out of control was beyond her . . . and oddly enough, she was not too terribly interested. At least Gourry had been paying attention, and there was no permanent harm done. No sense in worrying about it, really.

What was more important was getting ready for the day. Considering all the times Gourry had taken care of their breakfast, it only seemed fair that she pull her weight. At least occasionally. The first order of business was to find water. And maybe she could take a bath while she was at it, too. She briefly considered getting dressed, but decided against it. They were pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and they had yet to see another living soul since setting out. Lina decided to chance it. Her chemise satisfied the basic demands of modesty, at least technically, she supposed.

It was a gorgeous morning. The clouds of the previous day were swept away, and the sky was a perfectly washed clear blue. Water droplets from the heavy rains clung to everything, from the leaves of the trees above to the grass below, and the sunlight danced about, here reflecting off a bead of water to make it sparkle like a diamond, there refracting into a brilliant rainbow. Lina reveled in the crisp morning air and the feel of damp mud squelching beneath her bare feet.

Now, if only she could find a small pool, everything would be perfect. A nice quiet place where she could enjoy a nice hot soak. Maybe with a waterfall. Lina let her imagination run wild as she meandered along a small game path. Eventually, it should lead to water. Finding her idyllic little glen would just be a bonus, unlikely as it was.

She heard them long before she saw them. People were talking, not terribly far away. Lina stopped, listening intently, but their words were indistinct, and she only caught random snatches of the conversation. They seemed to have no worries about anyone overhearing them, that much was certain. But what were they doing in the middle of nowhere? The logical answer was that it was the woodcutter, or whoever used the tiny hut she and Gourry had borrowed the night before. Her natural curiosity took over, and Lina crept up to see what was going on. She wished that she had taken the time to bother dressing, but there was little she could do about it at this point.

The path led straight to a small clearing, and the water she sought, in the form of a nice little pond fed by a small spring. What caught her attention were the two people talking in the clearing. One of them had his back to her, but judging from the familiar-looking beige cloak and the up-raised hood, it was Zelgadis. She was a bit surprised to see him, but not by much, because she had caught a few glimpses of him back in town. But the person he was talking to . . . it was impossible . . . Lina quickly rubbed at her eyes, but when she looked again, she still saw a familiar willowy blonde. Why on earth was Zelgadis talking with a dead woman . . . who was quite obviously not dead? There she was. The Lady Lucilla. Niece and lover of Deremar, who had supposedly been killed by her and Gourry. Lina shook her head.

What the hell? Lina's jaw dropped as she watched Zelgadis _embrace_ Lucilla‑and not just that, he _kissed_ her, too. But . . . Lina shook her head again. She had to be seeing things . . . she thought—she could have _sworn_—Zel was sweet on Amelia. He denied it, of course, but he had taken Amelia's bracelet . . . how could he even consider kissing another woman? It was no chaste simple brotherly kiss, either, judging from the way Lucilla was pressing herself up against him. The slut!

The couple broke their ardent embrace and exchanged a few words, something about sticking to the plan this time—what plan?—and that they would see each other again soon. Lina paid little attention to their conversation because she was furiously arguing with herself. What she _wanted_ to do was march right up to Zelgadis and beat some sense into him. How dare he do something like this to Amelia? But, she also wanted to know what the deal was with Lucilla. The girl was _supposed_ to be dead. In the end, she did neither, for the simple stupid reason that she was not properly dressed. She knew it was idiotic, but for the life of her, she could not force herself to confront either of them dressed in a scanty—and practically see-through—chemise. Instead, she carefully noted the direction they took when they left. Lucilla headed towards Deremar's keep—no surprise there—and Zel set out for the town they had just left. Just what was going on here?

Well, one thing was certain, hunkering down in the bushes was not going to help her figure it out. Lina eyed the small pond. A simple fireball would warm it up nicely, although it would probably be a good idea to wait just a few more minutes. After all, it would be mighty awkward if Zel and Lucilla rushed in on her in the middle of her bath . . . Then Lina reconsidered. Although the idea of confronting them in her chemise was less than appealing, if they interrupted her bath, she would have no compunctions about fireballing them into insensibility, and then she could torture . . . uh . . . make that _question_ them to find out what was going on.

Unfortunately, her explosive method of heating her bathwater failed to bring anyone. Lina sniffed to herself as she wrapped a towel more tightly around her torso and eased into the nice hot water. Cowards.

Still, she decided to keep her guard up. Who knows, maybe they were just being slow.

Lina was on the verge of giving up—after all, it was really hard to enjoy her bath when she was so on edge—when she heard just the slightest rustling sound at the edge of the clearing. So. Someone was trying to sneak up on her, huh? Well they were in for a surprise. She _hoped_ it was Zel. He was going to get an earful from her, that much was certain. After she finished blowing him up, that is. She turned so that she was facing away from the clearing. There was a decided advantage to surprise, after all, and if it looked like she was concentrating on her bath instead of her surroundings, it might lull her foe into a false sense of security. Maybe not Zel . . . but it never hurt to try. Just a few moments more, and Lina would _finally_ get some answers.

All plans went out the window, though, when she heard a familiar voice, startlingly close to her, say, "I wouldn't, if I were you."

----------------

Author's notes: I know it's been a very long time since the last chapter, and really, all I have are excuses: work is 1/3 busier, and I'm still adjusting to the new schedule, plus I'm in the process of looking for a new job, which means jumping through a heck of a lot of hoops while ringing fancy bells and blowing neat-looking whistles . . . and I have two children knee-deep in the "soccer years". Neither of them play soccer, but between all their activities . . .

At any rate, this particular chapter was a slow write, and then went through some very serious revisions, but I'm very pleased at how it finally turned out. The burning question is . . . who did Lina hear? I have to admit, that part of the story completely took me by surprise . . .Thanks go out to Aerishiner for giving me some great advice about not using contractions outside of dialogue. It was amazing how much fun I had taking out the contractions! And of course, thanks also to Filing Sloth, for finding time in his busy schedule to beta for me.

Now, for some answers! Stara: Gourry doesn't know why the meal wasn't finished, but he thought the bodies belonged to his father and brother because none of the other bodies had been ritually desecrated—they were the only ones he found that were missing heads and hands. As for Sylphiel's father --coughs embarrassedly-- yeah, he was a priest . . . but he also struck me as the leader of the town as well . . .

Mistress DragonFlame: Don't worry about offending me! I hope that you and your friend have patched things up!

'Sloth: Well, I took most of your advice, but you'll see that my favorite line just had to stay. You'll have to let me know how it ends up working! And I tried for a hint of citrus . . . but the story wouldn't cooperate for some reason . . .

BlueJellyFish: Why would you not trust Ryan? The poor guy is just suffering from a broken heart . . .

RM & Night Raven: --blush-- Thanks for the kind words! It's reviews like yours that make me want to pick the story back up again, in spite of all of life's distractions!

klb101: I'm glad you're enjoying the story . . . but don't neglect your husband too much! laughs I had to show your review to my husband . . . he didn't think it was as funny as I did, for some reason . . .

Sher: I really would have preferred to put the full version of chapter 2 on , but . . . --shrugs-- The link is the next best thing. I'm glad people are enjoying the full version!

Tom the Mighty & Sunlight Rocket: I'd love to hear your theories about Lina! Drop me an email if you're so inclined! (And Tom, yeah I've had my eye on the novels since TokyoPop first released the news. Finally, a more intelligent Gourry appears! More, being relative of course . . . )


	11. Two Brides for the Gabriev?

**Flam Gush 11**

When Lina got up, Gourry roused himself into a fuzzy state of awareness. Somehow, instead of getting sleep, he had kept staring at the ceiling for most of the night. The last thing he remembered before finally nodding off was the sound of birds chirping in the pre-dawn gloom. Even in his current muzzy-headed state, his first thought was to see if Lina was okay. She seemed to be fine—cheerful, even, which struck him as odd. 'Cheerful,' 'Lina,' and 'morning' were usually contradictory terms. He had learned very soon after 'rescuing' her that the day went a whole lot smoother if Lina woke on her own schedule. She puttered around a bit, and he lapsed back into a doze. As much as he wanted to get an early start, his eyes refused to open fully, and he gave into the impulse to sleep, just a few moments longer. He was vaguely aware when she healed his burns, and he did notice her letting herself out of the shack, but since she went out in her shift, he figured she was just answering a morning call to nature, and he drifted off, certain that he would hear her when she came back.

Some time later, Gourry woke with a start. The tread of heavy footsteps approached the shack—much too heavy, in fact, to belong to Lina. A quick glance assured him that she still was gone . . . and he was sure that more than enough time had passed for her to finish her business and get back. Which left him with two minor mysteries: where the heck was Lina, and who was outside?

Old mercenary instincts died hard. Gourry quickly, but silently made his way to the door, prepared to ambush anyone who decided to enter. It might just be the woodsman, but when in hostile territory, it was best to be prepared.

His precautions proved unnecessary, as whomever it was walked right past the shack without stopping. He opened the door just a crack, in time to see the flare of a beige cloak disappear into the brush.

Whoever it was, they seemed to be in quite a hurry. Not that it was any of his business that some unknown stranger was out for a morning stroll in a largely abandoned section of the forest. Well, now that they were gone, Gourry had more important things to do. The morning was already half-gone. The sooner he found Lina, the sooner they could head out. He quickly gathered up the few things they had scattered about the room. Mostly it was just clothes left out to dry, but as he rolled up their blankets, he realized that his father's ring was still on the ground where he had placed it the night before. He had forgotten all about it, after Lina had burst into flames. As he reached out his hand, he found himself strangely reluctant to pick it up. Lina should be the one to do that. But Lina was gods knew where—certainly not here. And leaving the ring on the ground was not really an option, either. With a sigh, Gourry picked up the heavy signet and put it back on a thong he tied around his neck. Then he buckled on his armor and set out to find Lina.

Once again, he was surprised by her behavior. He snorted as he tossed her boots over his shoulder. He had never figured her for the barefoot type. Or for the 'frolic through nature' type, either. It was a simple matter to follow the imprints of her bare feet in the mud as they meandered from here to there with no obvious pattern. His musings were interrupted by the sound of an explosion. With his blood racing, Gourry quickened his pace. If Lina was using her spells, it probably meant trouble. Not that he thought Lina would have trouble taking care of herself—she had rather painfully disabused him of that notion—but he was her protector, and if she was in trouble, he belonged by her side.

It was probably only a few moments later, although it felt a lot longer, that Lina's footprints led him to a small clearing. A quick glance was all he needed to assess the situation. Lina was not, after all, in trouble—she was taking a bath. So much for getting an early start . . . although . . . there were other things they could do with their time. Her back was to the clearing, and he was just about to call out to her when he realized by the set of her shoulders that she was tightly coiled, like a cat just about to pounce. Although, her body language was subtle, he had the strongest feeling that she was setting a trap.

A quick scan of the clearing provided no obvious answer, and once again, Gourry almost called out to her to let her know that it was just him. After all, he had no desire to spring Lina's trap. Just before he did, however, he caught a glimpse of something from the corner of his eye. There, in the brush, someone had just moved a sword, or some other shiny object—rather carelessly, in fact, for it was the sun glinting off the metal that had caught his attention.

Quickly, but also as quietly as he could, Gourry advanced on the figure hiding in the brush, cursing silently at the slight rustling sound his passage caused. Obviously, Lina was expecting a foe, and that was certainly good enough for him. Within moments, he had snuck up behind the figure, and he realized with a start that Lina's stalker was an aristocratic woman—if her clothes were any indication.

Before he could even wonder what a highborn lady was doing crouched in the brush wearing such a fancy dress, she inserted a small dart into a metal tube and raised it to her lips. Gourry lunged to close the distance between them, sacrificing stealth for speed. Before she had time to do more than take a breath, his sword was at her throat. "I wouldn't, if I were you," he growled in a threatening undertone.

She jerked, obviously startled, and inadvertently launched her dart. A flick of his wrist deflected the dart and sliced the blowgun into two pieces that tumbled uselessly from her fingers. Before she could so much as turn her head, his sword was back at her throat. He heard the loud splashing of Lina pulling herself from the pool, but most of his attention was on the girl.

He may have startled her, but he had to admit, she was a tough one. She looked as though she would be more comfortable in a lord's great hall, but she clearly had no qualms about getting dirty. Although she held most of her body still, her left hand was slowly inching towards her purse, probably in search of a weapon. Gourry grunted and his blade pressed into her throat, ever so slightly, causing a thin trickle of blood to well up. "Uh-uh," he said firmly. "I wouldn't do that, either."

Her mouth hardened into a thin line, and she slowly turned her head towards him. She looked vaguely familiar, sort of like someone's sister or maybe a cousin. Although he had to admit, it could just be the slightly petulant look she wore: a spoiled pout that so many rich people affected when they condescended to speak to mercenaries like him and Lina. Before he could place her, though, a clear flash of recognition spread across her face.

"You!" she gasped.

"Me." Gourry agreed, wondering who she was and why she thought she knew him.

Her eyes widened. "It is you, isn't it?" she breathed. Gourry watched two different emotions war on her face: awe and indignation. "You are Gourry, aren't you? Gourry ap Magsen Gabriev, right?"

Gourry firmly quashed the urge to flinch back from her. "How . . ."

Before he could finish the sentence, or even form a coherent thought, he heard Lina push her way eagerly through the brush. "Good going, Gourry!" she crowed gleefully. "You got Lucilla!"

* * *

Finally, she was going to get some answers. Lina took a long look at the girl they had supposedly killed. She seemed awfully healthy for a dead girl, that was certain. Although given the way she was struggling against Gourry, she might not stay healthy for long. She seemed oblivious to the fact that he held his sword at her throat. Her expression murderous, Lucilla flicked her hand to her belt. Gourry started moving to disarm her before she could get her hand on a weapon, but Lina was faster. "Shadow Snap," she called out, hurling her dagger at the ground.

Instantly, Lucilla froze in a rather awkward half-leaning, half-twisting position.

"What did you do to me!" Lucilla demanded imperiously.

Lina ignored her, directing her next comment at Gourry as she studied Lucilla. "You can let her go, now. She won't be moving for a while . . ." Lina flashed a predatory grin at her, feeling very much like the smug cat who had finally cornered the canary . . . although this canary was anything but helpless. ". . . at least, not until I get some answers." Although, Lina conceded to herself, answers might be harder to get than she had thought. There was iron in this girl. And she was not just indiscriminately attacking random passersby in the forest either. Lina was definitely her target. Although the girl was clearly less than thrilled at being captured by Gourry, it was the sight of Lina that had made her throw all caution to the wind.

Gourry released his hold on Lucilla, and then relieved her of her obvious weapons—a dagger at her belt and a purse with a handful of darts—before searching for less obvious weapons. Lucilla protested vehemently, but he followed Lina's lead and ignored her.

Lina clicked her tongue when he found two more daggers. She only took a brief glance at them before Gourry slipped them into his belt, but they looked to be more ceremonial than functional. "She sure is well-armed for a dead girl, isn't she? Awfully healthy, too," she remarked casually as she reached out to pinch Lucilla's cheek, the way an overly affectionate aunt might greet a young child. "But not too terribly smart, I'm afraid, to think she could sneak up on me!"

Lucilla bared her teeth at Lina.

"Are you sure she's Lucilla?" Gourry asked, studying her face. "She doesn't look too much like that girl we saw that day."

"I'm pretty sure," Lina responded as she squinted up at the sun and then glanced down, trying to gauge how much time she had before Lucilla's shadow shifted beyond the reach of the dagger. Her towel chose that moment to start slipping, but she absently grabbed two corners, bunching them into a fist. She had more important things to deal with than a stupid towel. Right now, she had to figure out the best way to deal with this girl. "We were kinda distracted that day, you know."

"Would the two of you stop talking as if I weren't here?" Lucilla demanded acidly. "I insist that you release me this instant!" She struggled futilely against the force that held her immobile.

Lina just gave her that same saccharine smile and patted her cheek. In response, Lucilla spat in Lina's face. It took a great deal of self-control, but Lina ignored the thick ropy string of hot spittle dripping down her cheek and sharply backhanded Lucilla, leaving an angry red welt on her cheek. "Care to try that again?" Lina asked maintaining a sickly sweet tone.

Tears had sprung up in Lucilla's eyes, but she looked more furious than hurt and she tried to spit at Lina again. This time Lina was ready for her, and she smoothly shifted to the side, backhanding Lucilla's other cheek, hitting her with a mono volt at the same time. As Lucilla shrieked in agony, Lina realized that she was using the exact same combination of spells that Zel had once used on her. She inwardly groaned. Given the girl's reactions, she was willing to bet they would be just as effective with Lucilla as they had been with her. If only it had been Zel! Even that time he had worked for Martina and her father, going so far as to kidnap Amelia, Zelgadis had been brutally honest about his intentions. She knew she could get answers out of him. Lucilla, on the other hand . . .

"My, my," Lina commented mildly as she released Lucilla. She had toned down the intensity of the spell quite a bit, but it was better to be safe than have the girl pass out. "Not very well bred, are you." She sighed in mock solicitude as Lucilla gasped for breath. "Not that I'd expect better manners from a girl who whores with her uncle."

"What would you know about it, you . . . you . . . flat-chested . . . _hag_!"

Lina's response was immediate and automatic. "Flare bit!" As she watched the small spheres burn holes in Lucilla's dress, she struggled to pull herself back together. It had been hard enough to ignore the disgusting feel of spit dripping down her cheek, but that was nothing compared to the self-control she needed right now. The blood roared in her head and all she wanted was to flash-fry Lucilla with a fireball. No one ever got away with insulting Lina's breast-size without suffering the consequences. But in this situation, she had to retain the upper hand, and if Lucilla knew how close she was to losing control, she would never be able to recover. "Oh, but I want to know all about it." She forced herself to maintain an even tone. "There's so much I want you to explain to me. You can start by explaining why you keep targeting me."

Lucilla clamped her mouth shut into a thin line.

"No?" Lina asked. "Suit yourself. It really makes no difference to me. See that?" Lina pointed down at Lucilla's shadow. "As long as that dagger is within your shadow, you won't be able to move. I figure you've got, oh . . ." Lina rather exaggeratedly squinted up at the sun again. ". . . maybe three hours? Four? Until your shadow shifts enough to free you. I'm not really in a rush here, but I imagine you'll get pretty uncomfortable standing like that before too long . . . not to mention hungry and thirsty, too."

Even three hours was stretching the truth. She figured that at most, Lucilla would be stuck for about an hour, maybe half again as long as that. What really counted, though, was what Lucilla believed, and judging from the way she blanched, Lina had her convinced. That position was probably already causing the girl some discomfort.

The silence stretched out. Lina stood casually, one hand leaning on a cocked hip, the other clutching the ends of the towel, while Lucilla glared at her and struggled to make her body move. Lina had the clear advantage now, and Lucilla knew it, but instead of breaking the girl, it seemed to make her even angrier.

Finally, Lina broke the silence. "Talk or don't, it's up to you. I've got better things to do than stand around and wait for you to decide, though." With a shrug, she turned and headed back towards the clearing. She paused just beyond Lucilla's line of sight, gave Gourry a very pointed look, and as a final taunt she called out, "Just shout if you change your mind!" Hopefully, Gourry would catch her meaning. She might not be able to get anything out of Lucilla, but given her mixed reactions to Gourry, maybe he could. In the mean time, she might as well make herself comfortable. With a sigh of pleasure, Lina lowered herself—rather noisily, as she wanted to be sure Lucilla thought she was out of the picture—into the spring. The water was still nice and warm. She leaned back, tried to relax, and listened.

* * *

"I _hate_ that bitch!" Lucilla spat at the ground, her tone venomous.

Gourry had been leaning against a tree, wondering what the heck Lina was doing. It was certainly different from her standard practice of throwing fireballs first, and then rapidly firing questions at her targets while shaking them silly. Maybe that was just the way she dealt with bandits, though. Had they ever tried to get answers out of a noble before? Usually Lina took care of asking all the questions. Honestly, he had no idea what she was trying to accomplish by leaving him alone with Lucilla.

The pure unadulterated hatred in the girl's tone quickly pulled him out of the indolent half-aware pose he had adopted. He could practically feel the waves of malevolence rolling off of her, all directed at Lina. Gourry studied her, his expression stony. One thing was clear: her hatred was for Lina, but not for him.

Lucilla's eyes narrowed as she considered Gourry. "So." Her tone was crisp. "You too, huh?" Her expression hardened.

Him too? What was she talking about? And why did Lina think he could handle this on his own? He had no idea what to say, so he held his silence, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the tree once again.

"What is it about her?" Lucilla demanded in disgust. "She's as flat as a washboard, she acts like some wild boy . . ." She trailed off, then fixed Gourry with a piercing gaze. "And you'd die for her, wouldn't you," she said bitterly.

"Why are you trying to kill Lina?" That much Gourry understood, with perfect clarity.

"Why?" Lucilla demanded incredulously. "Do you need a reason to kill the Dra-Mata? She's the enemy of all who live! She's the girl who leaves destruction in her wake. Not even the White City of Seyruun survived her wrath! I figure I'm doing the world a _favor_! How many more innocent people have to suffer her so-called 'help'!"

Well, he had to admit that Lina's methods did tend to be rather destructive . . . Still, had anyone ever gone out of their way trying to kill her? Well . . . there was that one time . . . He peered closely at Lucilla. She looked human enough, but those advisors of Phil's had, too. "Aren't you a little late?" he asked. "That Gaav-guy has been gone for a long time, you know."

"What?" Lucilla looked at him in confusion.

"The king-dragon-demon guy." Gourry said shortly. "Hellmaster took him out, so you don't need to target Lina anymore."

"I have no idea what you are talking about." Lucilla looked more confused than he usually felt when he tried to follow one of Lina's magic lessons. It was possible that she was shamming, but he had no desire to find out. His memories of Hellmaster were uncomfortably vivid.

"Then what's the real reason? You sure don't look like the . . ." What did Amelia call it? She had made him repeat it over and over . . . "Like the 'Hammer of Justice' type."

Lucilla shook her head. "You're nothing like I thought, Gourry ap Magsen Gabriev. Oh, you look the part, sure enough." She adopted a sultry tone as her eyes raked over him in a suggestive manner, leaving him feeling dirty. "But who would've thought we'd meet like this?" The wicked glint in her eyes made Gourry want to shudder.

"Who'd have thought we'd meet at all," Gourry growled. Something was wrong. The half-remembered snatch of conversation overheard in the bath niggled at the back of his mind, adding to his sense of unease.

"Oh, I always knew we'd meet someday." Lucilla flicked her tongue across her lips. "After all, we _are_ supposed to—"

"That's enough of that!" Lina announced sharply. She was dripping a trail of water behind her as she marched up sharply to Lucilla, pushing Gourry out of her way. "You've just about outlived your usefulness, you realize," Lina said coldly, and then she touched Lucilla on the forehead.

Immediately, the girl slumped over. With a sigh, Lina bent over and pulled the dagger out of her shadow, and Lucilla toppled to the ground in an indecorous heap.

"What'd you do to her?" Gourry demanded. He felt vaguely cheated, but also greatly relieved at the same time. "You didn't kill her, did you?"

Lina shot him a withering glance and nudged Lucilla with her muddy foot, flipper her onto her back. Lucilla was fast asleep, and snoring quite lustily.

"Oh," Gourry said, feeling a bit sheepish.

"Oh." Lina repeated emphatically. She turned to look at him, peering intently at his eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Gourry answered, a bit confused as to why she would ask, but also concerned about the puzzled expression she wore. "Sorry I couldn't get much out of her." It was stupid, but he felt like he had failed Lina somehow.

"What?" She looked startled, and then she smiled. "You did great, Gourry. You sure got more out of her than I could." She closed the gap between them and reached up to caress his cheek. Then she stretched. "Now. I can finally relax and finish my bath in peace!" she exclaimed as she headed back to the clearing.

"Don't you think we should tie her up or something?" Gourry called out, as he glanced at Lucilla with distaste.

"Nah," Lina called out as she slid into the pool with a sigh. "She'll be out of it for quite a while."

"You sure?" Gourry nudged Lucilla with his foot, and got no reaction, not even a break in her snoring.

"Gourry, trust me." Lina said in a slightly disgusted tone. "She wouldn't wake up if a herd of elephants stampeded through."

He did trust Lina, but still, he just could not force himself to turn his back on an obvious foe, at least not without taking some precautions. He ripped a few strips of cloth from her overskirt and bound her hands and feet, before slinging her over his shoulder and carrying her into the clearing.

Lina was vigorously scrubbing her hair. She glanced over at him and scowled slightly at his burden. Gourry unceremoniously dumped Lucilla on the ground and shrugged apologetically at Lina. Every instinct screamed at him: you just do not leave a potential foe lying around. He knew Lina's magic had immobilized her, but he felt a whole lot better seeing the strong knots around Lucilla's wrists. Lina sniffed, indicating that she was only marginally mollified, and turned her attention back to her hair, dismissing the subject.

The non-verbal exchange was so natural that Gourry barely realized it had occurred. He idly watched as Lina scrubbed vigorously at her hair, and then he shrugged and took out his razor and a bar of soap. He had shaved about half of his face when she finally seemed to be satisfied with her efforts, and dove under the surface. When she emerged, she shook her head, flinging water everywhere.

"Hey!" Gourry exclaimed, brushing water out of his eyes and shaking soap off his razor with a practiced flick of his wrist.

Lina grinned mischievously, and then eyed him thoughtfully as she leaned against the opposite edge of the pool. Gourry shrugged again, and ran one hand lightly over his face and neck, following with sure strokes of the razor. From the corner of his eye, he could see Lina watching him, almost as if she were mesmerized. He was nearly finished when she finally broke the silence.

"Doesn't it make you nervous, having a sharp blade near your throat like that?" Her question sounded rather off-hand.

Gourry looked at her quizzically as he wiped the razor against his trousers and then folded it. He leaned over the edge of the pool and splashed water on his face, rinsing away the last of the suds. "I'd never really thought about it," he confessed. "You either shave or grow a beard, and the only thing that cuts the hair off your face well is a nice sharp razor." He wiped his face on a towel and turned to look at her.

Her face was relaxed, but he could see the wheels spinning behind her eyes. And then he saw something else that took him by surprise. He crooked his finger and motioned her closer.

"What?"

"C'm'ere." Gourry laid the towel he had just used to dry his face on the bank, smoothing it flat.

"Why?" Lina asked curiously.

"Because I'm gonna wash your back. And it's kinda hard to do that if you're neck deep on the other side of the pool."

A slight blush blossomed across her cheeks. "Took you long enough," she announced casually, but her smile belied her tone.

* * *

Lina sighed in pleasure as Gourry's strong hands ran over her back. It was much less like having her back washed and more like a massage, as his fingers worked corded muscles, forcing them to release their tension. Her entire awareness focused on him. In addition to the pleasant sensation of his hands on her back, she could also feel the warmth of his body behind her. She could hear his breathing, the slow and steady exhalations. And she could feel herself responding. When was the last time they had been close like this? Physically close? It had been the last time they were alone. The same day they had fled from a blood-thirsty mob in Deremar's village. All because someone had accused them of the murder of the girl who was inelegantly snoring just a few feet away. Lina shot a glare in the general direction of Lucilla's unconscious form.

"What's wrong?" Gourry asked as he moved his hands to the base of her neck, tracing the cords that ran up behind her ears. Lina shivered in reflex.

"I was just thinking." Although it had shocked her at first to find out that Lucilla was specifically targeting her—not that it made any difference, but Lina wondered who the 'suffering innocent' was that Lucilla wanted to avenge—at least now they knew who was after them. Strangely enough, it was rather comforting to know that all she had to worry about was a rather inept—if determined—spoiled brat of a noble. Lina furrowed her brow in distaste. It figured that a girl who was cozying up to Zel and spent rather un-innocent nights in her uncle's bed would try the seduction route. Not that it would get her far. The idea of Gourry succumbing to Lucilla's ploy was so outrageous, it was almost laughable. On the other hand, when Lucilla had dropped into that husky tone, Lina had felt the sudden overpowering urge to go and rip Lucilla's eyes out. The girl would have a hard time playing the vamp with two gaping holes in her face.

The ferocity of her thoughts had taken Lina by surprise, and she had only just barely realized that Lucilla had gained the upper hand. Something about Gourry's tone had been dreadfully wrong, and she had suddenly known—although she had no idea how—that she had to shut the girl up, or things were going to get very ugly, very quickly. Or maybe it was just jealousy. She really doubted that was it, but then again, she had never sat by and listened to another woman try to seduce her love. Regardless of the reasons, she had been furious. Of that, there could be no mistake.

"'Bout what?" Gourry slowly worked his hands down her spine, pressing in small circles with his thumbs.

Lina glanced over at Lucilla again, wishing that the girl had not decided to investigate. She really had been hoping for Zel . . . but if she had known that Gourry would show up, well . . . she probably would have waited quite a bit longer before heating her bath water.

"'Bout what?" Gourry repeated, as he gently took hold of her chin and turned her head to look at him.

A half-dozen thoughts flitted through her mind as his eyes searched her face. She briefly wondered what he was looking for, what he hoped to see. Mostly, she sought her own answers in his face. His eyes were tired, and she could see the singed portions of his hair frizzed about his face. She twisted so that she was facing him and tried unsuccessfully to smooth his hair down. Gourry caught her hand and brought her fingers to his lips, gently kissing them. Lina felt her heart thump loudly in her chest and tears started to well up in her eyes.

"Lina?" He spoke huskily against her fingers as she gently ran them over his lips.

She was just about to answer when Lucilla let out a particularly lusty snore. Lina sighed bitterly. "We just can't seem to catch a break, can we?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Gourry's lips. "You did say that she'd sleep through a herd of elephants . . ."

It was true, too. Nothing would wake Lucilla for the next several hours. Still . . . was Gourry really suggesting what she thought? She found herself glaring at the sleeping girl, once again.

"Don't worry," Gourry said, sounding rather amused. "Here." He handed her the sack with her clothes.

As Lina rooted through the sack, trying to figure out what to wear, she could feel Gourry watching her. Irrationally, it made her self-conscious, and she quickly pulled on a clean shift. "Why don't you go find some firewood, or something?" Lina asked over her shoulder.

"Why?" Gourry raised an eyebrow.

Why indeed? It felt stupid to tell him that she felt uncomfortable with him watching her like that. It felt stupid that she even felt self-conscious. Never mind the fact that she had been prancing around in little more than a towel for most of the morning. Never mind the fact that she had felt perfectly fine being intimate with him. She felt her face flush at the memory, and she swallowed hard. Gourry just looked at her, waiting patiently for her answer. Lina took a deep breath. "I know it's stupid," she confessed, "but it makes me feel weird when you watch me get dressed."

"Weird?"

"Yeah. Weird." Lina laughed ruefully. "I don't know . . . it's like I'm on display or something . . . it's stupid, isn't it?"

Gourry hunkered down in front of her, piercing her with his gaze. "Do I make you feel uncomfortable?"

"It's not that," Lina responded quickly. "I just don't like it when you watch me get dressed. I guess I feel . . . exposed." Vulnerable. Maybe that was it. But why she felt that way only when she was dressing, well it was beyond her.

"Okay." Gourry smiled and cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand. Lina closed her eyes and leaned into the caress. "I'll go get some wood."

"Gourry?" she called softly as he stood up to go.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

He hunkered down in front of her again and he tilted her chin up. Once again, Lina felt her heart thump in her chest, and she held her breath. Very slowly and deliberately, Gourry leaned in, and Lina felt her eyes drift shut. The kiss started very gently, but it steadily increased in intensity, making Lina feel warm and tense low in her belly. When Gourry finally broke the kiss, Lina found herself breathless.

"You know that I love you, right?" Gourry asked as he stroked her hair.

Lina nodded, still trying to recover her breath and find her center.

"I'll protect you from anything, Lina," he said seriously. "Even from me."

Unbidden, a thought floated up to the surface, and Lina wondered who would protect her from herself. She frowned slightly, wondering where that idea had come from. Why would she need to be protected from herself?

"Lina?"

She smiled up at him. "It's nothing. Thanks, Gourry."

His eyes searched her face once again, but then he smiled and stood up to look for wood while she dressed. Lina watched him until he disappeared into the brush.

* * *

Someone needed to hit him upside the head with something solid. Maybe that would knock some sense into him. As soon as he had some distance from Lina, he crouched down, hanging his head between his knees, and took slow easy breaths. All the gods knew that watching her bathe—especially washing her back—had been exquisite torture. He found himself echoing Lina and wondering when they would ever catch a break. Unconscious 'dead' girl was just at the edge of suitable distraction: enough to inhibit any serious activity, but not enough to inhibit the desire. Gourry sighed lustily and concentrated on his breathing.

It took longer than he liked to regain equilibrium, which was more than a bit disconcerting. Lina was driving him to distraction, and it was more than simple lust, although he had to concede that was probably the biggest part. But what did he expect after watching her bathe . . . after kissing her like that?

Gourry suppressed another sigh and started braiding up his hair. That was the other part of it. Lina seemed mostly normal. She was acting mostly normal. But every single time she looked at his hair, her eyes got really wild. The weirdest thing about it, though, was that it was only her eyes. The rest of her body language gave no indication that she was bothered by anything.

If he had to guess, it was the obviously singed nature of his hair that was causing her strange reaction, since that was the only thing about him that was different. He had considered asking her to even it out for him, but given how wild her eyes looked whenever they focused on his hair, now was probably not the best time. Hopefully, braiding it up would take care of the problem, at least for now. He hated having his hair tied up, mostly because it always seemed to give him such a wicked headache. Gourry shrugged. It was certainly worth a try, but if Lina still had that weird reaction, he could always unbraid it and try something different. He snorted to himself. If he thought it would help, he would even consider shaving it all off and going bald.

For now, he just concentrated on finding some wood, and maybe something decent to eat as well, while giving Lina enough time to get dressed. It was strange that it bothered her . . . but he was really glad that she had told him. Lina liked to pretend that nothing ever bothered her—that she could take on the world without batting an eye. The fact that she could admit her discomfort to him . . . he knew that she trusted him, but this confirmed it. He wondered why it was that she had so much trouble with feelings—other than anger and frustration, that is. Everything else, she tended to keep bottled up inside, as if it were a sign of weakness to admit that she had feelings like everyone else.

Gourry had no luck foraging anything worth eating, but he did manage to collect a decent armful of dry wood, which was a difficult task, given the nature of the deluge that had hit them yesterday. When he pushed his way back into the clearing, Lina was doing some laundry, throwing all her energy into the task. She looked up over her shoulder and smiled at him. "My new clothes are so itchy, they need a couple decent washings," she said by way of explanation. Then she glanced sourly at Lucilla, but said nothing.

"What're we gonna do with her?" Gourry dumped the armful of wood on the ground, and it clattered and thunked as it fell. A mere few feet away, Lucilla slept on, blissfully unaware.

"I'm working on it," Lina said in disgust. "Maybe if we give her back to Deremar, he'll take the price off our heads."

"There's a price on our heads?" Gourry asked absently as he rooted through the woodpile, and started to lay out a fire.

"I'm assuming so," Lina replied with a shrug. "Why else send your self-proclaimed rival after us? You want me to start it for you?" She thrust her jaw in the direction of the fire.

"I'll just lay it out, and you can start it when you're ready, 'kay?"

Lina shrugged again and turned back to her laundry. She shook out her tunic with a loud snap and then carefully smoothed it flat on the grass.

Gourry finished setting up the wood and started pulling out some food for their breakfast. Then he sat back on his heels and watched Lina. From this angle, he could just make out her profile as she smoothed out a crease in one of the sleeves. He noticed that she kept glancing over at Lucilla. Lina had said that he had gotten information out of her, but most of what she had said had seemed little more than pure nonsense. Which reminded him . . . "I never told you, but I heard some really weird rumors that day you fell asleep in the bath." He found himself gritting his teeth, remembering how panicked he had been.

"I said I was sorry," Lina said sullenly. With practiced ease, she lit the fire and started washing her leggings.

"Yeah, I know." Gourry looked up from their provisions, and moved over to her, kneeling behind her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said gently, "I was really worried, that's all." He shuddered involuntarily at the thought of someone as depraved as that kid Zeil having Lina in their grasp.

Lina smiled and patted his hand, and then she turned her attention back to her leggings. "You were saying?" she prompted.

"Oh yeah. These two guys were talking about Deremar and the rumors they'd heard about him. They didn't seem to think too much of him."

"What did they say?" She anchored her leggings under a rock on the bank of the pool and turned to give him her full attention.

"Well," Gourry closed his eyes, trying to remember the specifics of the conversation. "One of them said that Lucilla was engaged to some Elmekian noble." It had been quite a shock hearing the name of his homeland in this part of the world.

"Elmekia? Are you sure?" Lina leaned forward slightly, the barest hint of a frown creasing her brow.

"Yeah," Gourry said shortly. "I remember thinking it was weird because I thought she was dead. But then the other guy said he had heard that Deremar had sacrificed her in some demonic ritual."

Lina stared at Lucilla's sleeping form, her face expressionless, but the tense set of her shoulders indicated she was bothered by something. "Well, she's obviously not sacrificed . . ." she muttered under her breath.

"What's wrong?"

Lina looked at him, her eyes full of concern. She opened her mouth, reconsidered, and closed it again, biting her lip. "Nah, I must be going delusional," she said with a false laugh as she started to stand up.

"No, what?" Gourry asked, catching her arm at the elbow. Clearly there was something. It was small consolation that her eyes were steady, instead of doing that weird jumpy thing.

"It's stupid," she said slowly, "and probably way off base . . . but . . ."

"But?"

"Oh, Gourry, what if you're the Elmekian noble?"

* * *

"What?" he asked incredulously. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"Is it? How do you think she knew your name?" She tried to gauge his reaction, wondering if she dared to ask the other question. Had Lucilla really known his full name? "She seemed to recognize you, too."

"I don't know," he said slowly. "I didn't think I'd ever hear that name again, you know."

He seemed calm enough, so she pressed on. "So it is your name?"

"Yeah," he admitted, "but I'd rather be just Gourry Gabriev, you know?" He laughed, a bit self-deprecatingly as he rubbed his hand over his head. "I'm not really sure who Gourry ap Magsen Gabriev is anymore."

Lina nodded. "Did you know that some legends say that the Swordsman of Light who slew the demon beast Zaniphar was called Magsen?" Actually, that was a bit of an oversimplification. According to her research, he had originally been called Magnus the Great, but somehow, over time, the name had shifted to Magsen. Most people just referred to him as the 'Swordsman of Light' and there were some who claimed that his personal identity had been completely subsumed by the heroic deeds he had performed with the Sword of Light. Funny that she had not heard any rumors of his descendents in Elmekia . . . but Lina had to admit to herself that even she could not know everything.

Gourry shrugged. "I never really paid attention."

"You _never_ pay attention!"

He shrugged again, and Lina sighed. "Anyways, do you think there's some connection between that rumor you heard and the fact that she knows your name?"

"Huh? You mean the demon-worship thing?"

Lina stared at him with a flat expression.

He laughed and reached out to ruffle her hair.

Lina batted his hand away. "Didn't I tell you that's the most annoying thing I've ever encountered in my life?" she bit out from between clenched teeth.

"Maybe," Gourry shrugged, but his eyes were twinkling with barely suppressed mirth. "But I wasn't paying attention."

That did it! Lina launched herself at him, with the intention of locking him in a head-hold and pummeling him into submission, but Gourry caught her just before she slammed into him, picking her up and swinging her in a circle, laughing merrily the entire time. His laughter was infectious, and Lina found herself joining in.

When he finally set her down, Lina was breathless and dizzy, and she collapsed in a heap on the ground. Gourry hunkered down next to her and brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. "Feel better?"

Surprisingly, she actually did. "Yeah. How about you?" He was smiling at her, but his eyes searched her face. She was surprised to see traces of worry in his, but then he yawned, and she wondered if it was just that he was tired. All in all, he looked rather beat. "Why don't you get some rest?" she suggested. "Lucilla's gonna be out for several hours, more than enough time for you to get a quick nap."

Gourry yawned hugely. "Not a bad idea," he conceded.

"Of course not! After all, all my ideas are great ones. Get some sleep." She pushed him off and turned back to finish off her laundry. She really doubted that one washing would be sufficient to wear the clothes in properly, but at least it was a start. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that Gourry had curled himself up by the fire.

It was quite odd that he was so exhausted. Slogging through mud and rain certainly was tiring, but not _that_ much. Maybe they had left for Deremar's too soon, before he had a chance to fully recover? Siebert had strenuously objected to them leaving. He had wanted to monitor Gourry's condition for a few more days and make sure there was no permanent damage to his lungs. Strangely enough, he had stopped objecting when Gourry said he was going to look for his mother, although he had pulled her aside and given her a whole list of things to watch for. Lina had shrugged him off at the time. Gourry had certainly seemed healthy enough to her, but the old healer had saved both of their lives, so he obviously knew his stuff. It certainly would not hurt anything to listen to Gourry's breathing for a bit, right? Especially since she was done with her laundry and there was nothing better to do at the moment.

She knelt down behind Gourry and leaned her ear close. He murmured something in his sleep, and rolled onto his back, causing her to scramble out of the way. She glared at him, mostly out of reflex. Then she sighed and counted his breathing against her heartbeat. It was slow and steady, and she could detect none of the rattling or gasps Siebert had described in such distressing detail. She guessed it was just pure exhaustion, after all. It was unusual, but not really cause for undue concern.

Lina puttered about their impromptu camp a bit, but there was little to do, beyond boil some water and set up for their lunch—and of course, feed herself some breakfast. Although she had nothing to keep her active, there was more than enough to occupy her mind. Lina found a comfortable spot near Gourry, and pillowed his head on her lap while she kept an eye on Lucilla.

That girl was certainly an enigma. First she was sexually involved with her uncle, then she was dead. Then she was engaged, at least according to Gourry, or sacrificed. Today, the girl was cozying up to Zel, and apparently trying to kill her. Lina had seen the murderous expression blossom on her face when she had come up behind Gourry. Up until that instant, she had looked like a young girl with a crush. Lina unconsciously clenched her fists at the memory. She certainly had guts, that was sure. Either that or a death-wish. How else could she explain the girl's obvious scramble for a weapon when Gourry had a sword at her throat? Lucilla seemed to be at the center of a whole constellation of strange coincidences that they had been running into lately. Gourry might dismiss it, but the rumor, combined with the way she had been looking at Gourry, and the whole seduction routine . . . what if she really was engaged to him?

Lina shook her head. Even if they were engaged, what difference did it make? Engagements could be broken, she knew that from first hand experience. It was hardly worth worrying about.

Obviously Lucilla had faked her death. Unless she had a secret twin or something. And just as clearly, it was an attempt to rile the population up against Lina. But not against Gourry. Her speech about doing the world a service by ridding it of the Dra-Mata—how she hated that name!—sounded good, but Lina thought that her true motivation was revenge. No, that was not completely accurate. Revenge was a part of it, and the most plausible. It was unfortunate, but sometimes her methods of dealing with . . . situations caused some collateral damage. No one was perfect, right? And if you took the long view, her methods made a lot of sense. Take that dragon she took out: it had already eaten several villagers and knocked down a couple of buildings before the town had hired her services. So her Dragon Slave had burnt half the village to a crisp. If she had done nothing, the dragon would have kept coming back. Who knows how many villagers it would have eaten—not to mention the havoc and destruction. At least her collateral damage was a one-time affair. Lina sniffed to herself.

At any rate, she still had to figure out what to do with Lucilla. They could just leave her here . . . but that just meant she could sneak up behind them again. The last thing Lina wanted was to take a poison dart in the back from some spoiled-brat of a girl. That would be worse that having some brainless swordsman—like that Voluun—claiming her kills! No, Lucilla had to come with them. She could probably keep her asleep for a few more days, if she had to. Lina grinned wickedly. Somehow, she doubted that Lucilla's mother was in on the little 'fake death' charade—the woman had seemed genuinely upset that day—and she would probably be more than 'overjoyed' to be reunited with her errant daughter. Not to mention the townspeople who had been injured trying to lynch her and Gourry. All things considered, Lina figured that Lucilla's homecoming was going to be anything but pleasant. Oh, yes. The idea had definite possibilities . . . Lina hummed happily to herself and waited for Gourry to wake up. They had things to do.

* * *

Author's notes: The inspiration for Gourry's full name came from a bit of ancient history. Back in the 4th century, there was a Roman general named Magnus Maximus (or Magnus 'the Great'). He was one of the last generals to successfully campaign in Britain, and in Welsh tradition, he was the founder of one the kingdoms. Over the years, his name was elided to Magsen. 'Gourry ap Magsen Gabriev' would equate to 'Gourry, son of Magsen Gabriev'. Not that the name 'Gourry' sounds Welsh to me. I just wanted to use something besides 'fitz' or 'mac' as his second name!

Thanks go out to Filing Sloth for his suggestions, and Anika for keeping me on my grammatical toes! (And for drawing the illustration for this chapter, too! It is quite awesome—I've posted it on my site.)

Fantasizing Fluff: Thanks for the comments! I know what you mean about some of the stuff posted up . . . I spend enough of my time fixing people's grammar for work, I don't want to see it when I'm supposed to be entertaining myself!

Anika: Well, nothing too lemony in this chapter . . . for some reason the story refuses to go that way. Mostly, I'm just along for the ride, waiting to see how things turn out!

Brenda: Happy (belated) Birthday! I've never actually seen the X-Men animated series. There is, of course, a reason why Lina burst into flames . . . but I'm glad the scene was vivid enough!

BlueJellyFish: My beta-reader tried to get me to tone down the fight between Lina and Gourry because he thought they were being too mean to each other as well (I confess that I had to over-ride him, and I didn't tone it down—sometimes we are the harshest to the people we really love . . . the neat thing is that they still love us, even after we're so mean). And they were. It wasn't the most fun thing to write, but the fight had been brewing for a few chapters, and they just had to work through it before they could move on. Hopefully, now they've cleared the air!

Klb101: Men do have the worst sense of humor sometimes! (and they tend to think things that aren't funny at all are the most hilarious thing they've ever encountered . . . )

Mistress Dragon Flame: I'm glad you patched up with your friend! As for the guy in the cloak, all I'll say is that you're going to have to keep reading to find out! (And I have no shame . . . laughs)

Amechan1: I confess I do have a lot going on that Lina and Gourry aren't revealing yet . . . but the story is coming together nicely, and I think we'll be moving into serious answers pretty soon. I don't know if Lina and Gourry will be ready, but they'll have to do their best! As for Amelia showing up . . . I honestly don't know. I was surprised enough when Zel poked his head in!

Lina Gabriev: Gourry was feeling the effects of the poisoned dagger, but when Lina cast dicleary, that neutralized the poison (Gourry also was just barely nicked, where as Lina was sliced up pretty good . . .) Why would you think that the voice belonged to Erik? After all, Garik killed him a few years back . . .

RM: Thanks for the review! (It's reviews like that that encourage me to carve time out of my schedule to continue the story). Well, hopefully at least some of the questions have been answered! I'm really glad that the thick plot is working out! Honestly, I'm a bit amazed at how complex the story has become, and I'm still hoping I can pull it all off!


	12. Under the Cover of Darkness

"Why do I have to carry her?" Gourry groused as he shifted Lucilla to his other shoulder, trying hard—and rather unsuccessfully—to ignore the throbbing in his temples. "Can't you just levitate her or something?" At least the sun was down, now. Although the bright light made his headache worse, squinting was almost as bad.

"Give me a break!" Lina shot back. "Levitation takes a lot out of me." She turned and gave him an arch look. "I suppose if it's too much for you, I could Ray Wing us the rest of the way."

Gourry refused to rise to her bait. "Why is it that one is any different than the other?" He mentally kicked himself. Ten-to-one she was going to try to explain it.

"They're totally different spells!" Lina exclaimed. "Okay. Both of them require you to manipulate the wind, but in totally different ways."

Sometimes, it really sucked to be right.

"With Levitation," Lina announced as she started her lecture on the merits and applications of one spell versus the other, "you manipulate the wind to make it support you. It's easy to control, but it's very draining. There's no limit to the amount of wind that you have to manipulate, and all that air gets heavy after a while. Ray Wing, on the other hand, produces a wind barrier around the caster. You have to concentrate to maintain the wind barrier, but in order to fly, all you need to do is manipulate the wind barrier, instead of a limitless amount of air. If you want vertical mobility, but you need to be able to cast other spells, Levitation is the best choice. Levitation also works well if you need to stop yourself from falling because it's so quick to cast. But if you want speed and distance for the duration, Ray Wing works better."

He tried, really he did. Not that hard, but he _did _try. But as soon as she started talking about air being heavy, she lost him. How could air possibly be heavy? The whole thing sounded convoluted and completely over his currently pounding head.

"Gourry!"

"Huh?"

"Are you even listening?"

"Um . . . yes?" Technically he supposed he was listening. He knew she was talking, at least. Mostly though, he was wondering how much longer he was going to have to lug Lucilla around. "We shoulda just left her tied up in that shack," he muttered under his breath.

Either Lina's hearing was better than he thought, or he was muttering louder than he had intended. "Oh come on!" she burst out, stopping to glare at him. "Honestly how heavy can she be?"

"Honestly?" Since Lina had stopped anyway, Gourry decided to take advantage of it. He sat down and dumped Lucilla off his shoulder, letting her fall inelegantly onto the ground. "Why don't you carry her for the rest of the day?" He rotated his shoulder, trying to get the kinks out.

Lina stepped over behind him and started kneading his shoulders. "You're totally knotted up!" She steadily increased the pressure, focusing on the area right around his left shoulder blade. "She doesn't look much bigger than me, and you've carried me a lot further than we've gone with her."

"I think it's the dress . . ." Gourry fished around for an excuse. Lina was right. Lucilla was very close to her in size, although the dress did make a bit of a difference. It was more that his skin cringed away from her, and he found himself carrying her so gingerly, trying not to think about the way her body was pressed up against him. Since he had her slung over his shoulder, her arms hung down his back, and they swayed against him with every step he took. He found himself contorting his back and shoulder, trying to avoid the feel of her arms moving against him.

Another part of it was her perfume—a not-so-subtle scent that made him think of rutting cats for some reason. Maybe she thought it was sexy or erotic, but having it so close to his nose for so long was making him sick to his stomach. Or maybe it was just the headache? Regardless, for once he was actually grateful that their supplies were running low. Lunch had been pathetically light, but now there was less sitting on his stomach.

The other part of it was her attitude. Even in her enforced state of sleep, there was something about her that set his teeth on edge and made him more than a bit nervous. Maybe it was just that she knew his name. He had no idea why she thought she knew him, because he was practically certain that he had never seen her before the day she had staged her murder.

"Well, that's easy enough to fix," Lina commented mildly. "We can just cut the skirt off. Then you won't have to lug all that extra weight."

No, that was _not_ an option. Just the thought of having to touch her exposed skin . . . Gourry shuddered. "Why do we even need her at all?" he demanded.

"What do you suggest, then?" Lina shot back. "If we left her tied up in that shack, it'd only be a matter of time before she got free. Zel might come looking for her, if no one else!"

"Are you _sure_ it was Zel?" he asked yet again. That was probably the craziest part of the whole day, even stranger than Lina frolicking through the forest barefoot, wearing nothing more than a shift. He knew the guy was mercenary, but cozying up to Lucilla? The only way Gourry could see it was if Zel thought it would somehow lead to his cure.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" she bit out from between clenched teeth as she dug her fingers painfully into a particularly tense knot of muscle.

"Ow! Lina!" Reflexively, he reached over his back to bat away her hands.

"It's not like I want her with us," Lina said sullenly, thrusting her jaw in the general vicinity of Lucilla. "It's either bring her, or kill her. I _don't_ want her sneaking up on me again."

Gourry muttered sourly under his breath, but he knew Lina was right. She was inept, but even a clumsy oaf could get lucky. And killing her was out of the question. He had no qualms about defending himself or Lina if the situation required it, but even then, it was rarely necessary to actually kill anyone. He knew he would never be able to force himself to cut down an unarmed foe in cold blood.

"Look," Lina said after taking a deep breath. "It's only about an hour more 'til we get to the village. We can put her in the public stocks and let the villagers find her." She started working on the knots in his shoulders again. "I'm sure they'll keep her occupied for a while." She sounded smug and vindictive at the same time.

The plan was to sneak into the village in the middle of the night, dump Lucilla in the town square, and search the room where he had found the tapestry. Lina was positive that Lucilla would sleep until dawn, and by that time hopefully they would be long gone. Gourry sighed a bit and tried to relax. Lina's fingers were strong and sure as she methodically worked her way across his shoulders and up his neck. If they came up empty after searching the room in the inn, then they would lay low for the next day and break into Deremar's keep the next night.

Lina altered the pressure of her fingers, making her touch a light caress. Then she echoed his sigh and draped her arms around him. Gourry closed his eyes and leaned back into her embrace. For just a moment, neither of them moved. Time slowed—held its breath. He could feel her warmth behind him, encircling him, giving him strength, telling him not to worry, that everything would be fine. True, he was her protector, but at that moment, he was fully aware of how much he depended on her strength as well.

Time caught up with them and the moment was over. With a slight squeeze and a rap on his chest, Lina released him and wandered over to the small brook they were following to refill their water skins.

Gourry fished around for a quick snack, taking further advantage of their impromptu rest-break. Although they had gotten a very late start, they had made good progress. Lina was probably pretty close in her estimation of how much further they had to go. There was no point in rushing either, since they were counting on the cover of darkness. As he gnawed at a scrap of jerked meat, pretty much the only thing they had left, Gourry pulled out the main gauche replica of the Sword of Light. With practiced ease, he removed the blade from the pommel, catching the braid of hair that came tumbling out. His fingers carefully traced the pattern of his mother's hair as it wove around three separate strands of blond—one vibrant and supple, the other two as fragile and lifeless as ash. He still had trouble believing that his mother could really be alive. Oh, he had no doubt that the charm was still active. No, it was more that he was afraid to believe. He had been so sure that he was the only Gabriev left. There was no keep, no Sword of Light to protect and pass on. When he had relinquished his claim on the Sword of Light, he had also given up the last thing tying him to his past. If his mother was alive, things were going to change. Not that that was a bad thing . . .

"Gourry?" Lina appeared at his elbow, handing him a water-skin. She watched him, almost clinically it seemed, as he drank in long swallows.

"Thanks." He restoppered the skin and dropped it on the ground next to him. "D'you suppose she's thirsty?"

Lina shrugged. "How thirsty do you get while you're sleeping?"

"What d'you think the village will do when they find her?"

Lina shrugged again, and abruptly changed the subject. "Can I see the tapestry again?"

Her question caught him off guard. "Why?"

"I just want to see it again," she said innocently. Her tone was bland enough, but her eyes were snapping with excitement.

It took him a while to find the tapestry—he had put it at the very bottom of his sack, doubting that he would need it any time soon. Lina hovered at his shoulder, peering over him with obvious impatience. "Why do you want to see it again?" he asked as he pulled it out.

"Let me see it first, and then I'll tell you. I've got an idea."

He no sooner smoothed the tapestry flat than Lina cast a light spell. He winced and squinted his eyes against the sudden brightness, but not before Lina noticed. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He waved his hand dismissively. "It just took me by surprise."

Lina looked at him sharply, but then turned her attention towards the tapestry. Once again, she traced the figure that was meant to represent him, and then she leaned in closer, so close in fact that her nose was almost pressed to the fabric. Apparently satisfied, she sat back on her heels, and then she glanced back and forth between him and the tapestry a couple of times before doing an obvious double-take.

"I thought you hated having your hair braided up," she said accusingly.

"Yeah, well . . ." Somehow, he doubted it would be a good idea to explain that he had braided it up to make her eyes stop jumping around. "So, what's your idea?"

Lina's brow furrowed a bit as she stared at his hair, but she turned her attention back to the tapestry, and Gourry mentally breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, I was thinking about how Lucilla recognized you."

"Yeah?"

"You found this in the room in the inn, right?"

"Yeah," Gourry repeated.

"Well, what if that was Lucilla's room? I mean, we already know she's loose and free with her favors . . ." Lina paused and a rosy blush spread across her cheeks. She cleared her throat and continued. "If the room was hers, she'd be familiar with the tapestry. There is enough of a resemblance that she might be able to recognize you, just based on it."

Gourry considered. It made sense, but something about the idea seemed off. Unfortunately, he had no clue what it might be. "I guess . . ." he said slowly, his gaze sliding over Lucilla.

"It would also explain why the room was so tastefully decorated—not that she has any taste," Lina said derisively, clicking her tongue.

She had no taste in perfume, at least. He could attest to that much. "Why would the lord's niece play the whore, though?"

"I don't know," Lina said exasperatedly. "You got any better ideas?"

"Well—"

"I didn't think so!" She cut him off curtly and he caught a fleeting look of worry in her eyes before she whirled around and started rolling up the tapestry.

* * *

With a quiet snick, Lina slid the bolt that held the stocks closed and added her own special touch to keep it locked in place. Then she stepped back to admire her handiwork. Lucilla was still fast asleep—after all, it just would not do for her to wake up and alert the whole village—and would likely remain so long enough for them to sneak into the inn and search.

The stocks were located just at the entrance to the village, at the end of the short road that connected Deremar's keep to the village square. She surveyed the buildings that formed the square: inn, brewery, general store, and smithy. Beyond, she could make out the shadows of peasant huts. The entire village seemed to be asleep: not a single light flickering in any window as far as the eye could see. Lina shook her head again. Why on earth had Deremar thought that someone was going to attack him when they were obviously in the middle of nowhere? And if he had been nervous enough to hire them and pay their considerable price—if you wanted the best of the best, you had to be ready to pay for it after all—how could he neglect to set guards? Especially after the abortive attempt to capture them. Lina actually found herself hoping they found nothing useful in Lucilla's room. She was itching for an excuse to pump Deremar for answers.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Gourry surreptitiously rubbing at his temples. How long had he had his hair braided up? It bothered her a bit that she had just noticed it earlier this evening. She must be more pre-occupied than she had thought. He still had it up now, even though it was obviously giving him a headache. Oddly enough, it was both annoying and a relief. She shook her head, dismissing the entire line of thought. There were other things for them to do besides standing around by the public stocks, pondering hairstyles.

"C'mon," she whispered. "Let's get moving."

Gourry snatched his hand away from his temple and grunted softly.

Even if it _seemed_ like everyone was asleep, there was no point in getting cocky. She and Gourry stuck to the shadows and moved slowly. Gourry was especially careful to keep his armor from clanking. They had wrapped him up in a dark blanket to help muffle any inadvertent sounds. Actually, that had been quite the argument. Gourry hated wearing anything that impeded his mobility, and even though Lina had pointed out that cloaks and capes hardly slowed either her or Zel down, he had still grumbled about the situation.

As they hunched in the shadows behind the smithy, Lina ground her teeth in frustration. They were moving along so slowly, she was willing to bet it would be morning before they were there. In spite of his sullen resistance about wearing the blanket, Gourry seemed to have infinite patience as he guided them towards the inn. She knew that his hearing was much better than hers, but still, did they absolutely have to freeze in the shadows every time an owl hooted or a wolf howled?

Finally, they made it to the back door of the inn without encountering a single soul. Although the door creaked distressingly loud on its hinges, causing both of them to freeze and melt into the shadows, no one came to investigate, even after several minutes. Once inside, they made their way through the kitchen—Lina ripped a generous chunk out of a loaf of bread sitting next to the stove—and into the common room.

A banked fire glowed in the fireplace, providing a modicum of light. They both stared at the dim shadows of rushes strewn across the floor. "What do you think?" Lina whispered as she shoved the last of the bread into her mouth.

"You didn't even get any for me?" Gourry asked softly with a mournful sigh.

"Get your own!" Lina retorted in a low undertone.

Gourry held up his hand, and Lina could hear something rustling in the common room. She strained her eyes and ears for some other indication of what was out there, while shrinking back into the shadows.

After a moment, Gourry leaned in close and whispered, "I think it's just a rat or something." Lina felt a shiver run up her spine at the feel of his warm breath on her ear. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Lina just mouthed the word as she nodded. "I'd better levitate us across," she whispered.

Gourry took another look at rushes on the floor of the common room and nodded shortly.

It was probably an unnecessary precaution. This was an inn, after all, and some noise was to be expected as guests moved around. Under normal circumstances, they probably would have walked right in without all the skulking about. Of course, these were hardly normal circumstances. Not that Lina really cared if they got caught—her magic could make short work of anyone unwise enough to challenge them—it was more a matter of practicality. It would probably be much easier to search through Lucilla's room if no one knew they were there.

Besides, doing it this way gave her the chance to work out the kinks in her new levitation variation. By the time Lina landed them softly outside of Lucilla's room, she thought that with a bit more work, she would master this variant, and then she could use it and still be able to cast other spells. Although it took a bit more concentration, in many ways, it was easier to support Gourry with the magic, rather than with her arms.

Much to her surprise, the door to Lucilla's room was unlocked, a fact she remedied as soon as she got the door shut behind them. As Gourry pulled the heavy drapes over the single window, Lina added a magical lock to make sure that the door would stay closed and they would have no interruptions. She finished in time to see Gourry light the lamp sitting on the mantle.

The room looked much as she remembered it. The huge bed still dominated the room, and she felt herself flush at the memory of what they had done on that bed. A warm tense feeling pooled low in her belly. As she glanced sideways at Gourry, she realized that they were alone—truly alone—for the first time in a long time. No one knew they were there, thanks to all the sneaking, and even if someone, by some strange quirk of fate did discover that Lucilla's room was currently occupied, there were only two ways in: tear down the wall, or find a sorcerer more powerful than she was. As much as she had complained about the excruciatingly slow rate Gourry had set, they still had plenty of time—several hours at least—before false dawn . . . She wondered if it would be difficult to persuade Gourry to make use of the bed once more. Who knew when they would next have the opportunity—not to mention the assured privacy—the room afforded?

"Gourry?" she said softly as she touched his arm to get his attention. "What—" she broke off abruptly when she noticed the new "decoration" gracing the wall above the mantle.

* * *

"Well . . . that's certainly . . . interesting . . ." Lina sounded calm enough, if at an uncharacteristic loss for words.

Gourry's glance whipped between her and the wall. "Interesting?" he asked in a strangled tone.

"Original?" she offered.

"It's sick." Gourry said flatly. "How come you didn't take 'em with us?"

With a grimace and a slight flush, Lina sank into one of the overstuffed chairs. "They were ruined. No point in packing them. And we were in a bit of a rush, if you remember."

The items in question were the remains of Lina's clothes. The memory was seared in his brain: the feel of Lina writhing against him, the sound of the water sloshing in the tub . . . the snapping of wire tight control as he gave in to the demands of needs too-long denied . . . . the feel of cloth rending beneath his determined grasp . . . the reward of Lina's bare flesh as she surrendered to his touch . . . He flushed guiltily. If only he had demonstrated just a bit more self-restraint, if only he had packed them instead of wadding them into a ball and shoving them into a corner of the room . . .

Both the yellow under-shirt and her leggings had been carefully mended. In fact, you could hardly tell that they had been ripped in the first place. They were currently pinned to the wall in a fashion to suggest that they were being worn, which was strange enough. What made the whole display grotesque were the daggers that had been impaled through the clothes in strategic locations: in the "heart," at the crotch of the leggings, and at the end of a long gash down the "torso" of the right side. The effect was highlighted by dribbles of some bright-red substance meant to emulate blood.

Gourry removed the dagger from the "torso" and glanced over at Lina. "It's the same place, isn't it?"

"Yeah, seems like it," Lina replied shortly with a slight wince.

He had vivid memories of helping Shella clean out the gash that stretched from Lina's ribs down to her hip. It had been on her right side.

In an uncharacteristic burst of anger, Gourry ripped her clothes off the wall and tossed them, along with the daggers, into the fireplace on top of the neatly arranged kindling just waiting to be lit. Throwing caution to the wind, he grabbed tinder and flint to spark the fire, not resting until he was sure the blaze would hold. He turned around to see Lina staring at him.

"What if I wanted to wear those again?" she demanded indignantly.

"You want to wear stuff that's been ripped up with daggers?" he returned with heat. "Too bad!" He turned around and poked at the fire, and then tossed on another log for good measure.

"Too bad?" Lina echoed angrily. "And who gave you permission to make decisions about my stuff?"

"I'm your protector!" he bit out, taking a step towards her. His head was throbbing and it hurt to think, but even he could recognize the danger implicit in someone mutilating Lina's clothes. He refused to believe that she could be blind to it.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Her hands were balled up into fists, clenched tight at her sides.

"I know you're not that stupid," he growled. "Even I can tell it's a curse." He held her eyes, daring her to contradict him.

Abruptly the anger visibly drained out of her, and he felt himself relax a bit as well. With a sigh, Lina ran her hands through her hair, pushing it back from her face. "It could be . . ." she said slowly, "but I really doubt it—"

He moved to her side and traced the line of her scar, across her midriff. "It's the same place."

"I know," Lina sighed again. "It could just be coincidence, you know."

"How?" he asked flatly.

Lina's eyes gazed off in the distance. "If this is Lucilla's room, we already know she hates me." She held up her hand to forestall him when he took a breath to interrupt. "And, we also know that Lucilla and Deremar had connections with those bandits, right?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, unconvinced.

"I think it's more likely that it's just wishful thinking," Lina said thoughtfully as she continued to stare at nothing. "She probably heard what had happened and added that detail . . ."

"You don't know that," he accused.

"Look," Lina said, looking him in the eyes, "We know that no one around here knows magic—clearly Lucilla doesn't at any rate—and no magic means no curse. Besides, the gash on the side is the only thing that's happened. If it were a real curse, I'd be dead, right?"

It made sense . . . up to a certain point . . . although Gourry had a hazy memory . . . something connected with an annoying high-pitched laugh . . . he tried to coax it out to the front, but his head was pounding so unrelentingly that it made it even more difficult than normal to think straight. He felt pulled in multiple directions and it was hard to decide which way to go. There was Lucilla, who obviously had it out for Lina. Then there was Lina herself, and the demons she refused to acknowledge. Add his mother to the mix—and the guilt that he had been unaware that she lived for all these years. On top of everything—and macabre display of Lina's clothes aside—being in this room, and the memories of the last time they were here, made it distressingly difficult to concentrate on anything. The entire situation was making him feel decidedly surly.

"C'm'ere," Lina said softly, gently tugging his hand and urging him to sit on a low upholstered footstool. "It's not like you to worry like this, you know," she said soothingly as she started unplaiting his hair.

Surly or not, headache or no, there was a reason Gourry was wearing the braid, and in a moment of panic, he tried to snatch his hair out of Lina's grip, but she batted his hands away, tugging painfully on braid in the process, and increasing the intensity of his headache at least a dozen times over. With a sigh of resignation, Gourry capitulated. He may end up bald sooner than he had thought, but anything had to be better than the pounding.

He shivered at the release of pressure on his scalp. "Headache?" she asked as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"Mmm," he mumbled noncommittally. "We really should do what we came for and get out of here, before someone notices."

Lina laughed softly. "I locked the door. No one's coming in—or going out—until I open it." She pushed his hair to one side and nuzzled at his exposed neck. "I really think we should take advantage of it, don't you?"

When Lina set her mind to it, she could be extremely persuasive. A half-dozen reasons why this was a bad idea flitted through his mind too quickly for him to pin them down, and he felt his resistance—not that there had been much to begin with—crumbling. He tugged her onto his lap. There was just one thing . . . he held her at a slight distance as he searched her eyes for any trace of that wild and panicked look.

"What?" Even though she was backlit by the single lantern in the room and her face was cast in shadows, he could see the smoldering look—the open and eager invitation—in her eyes.

"Nothing," he said, as he cradled her in his arms and carried her to the only bed the two of them had ever shared.

* * *

Lina snuggled closer to Gourry, savoring the languorous after-glow and the silky warmth of his skin against hers. She held onto the lazy feeling, content to relax and just _be_. Gourry seemed equally content, and the arm that held her was heavy and relaxed. They both deserved—no, she amended, they had _needed_—this interlude.

"Gourry?" she whispered into his chest.

"Mmm?"

"What do you think it would be like, if we could be like this forever?"

He pushed himself up onto his arm and looked down at her with an indulgent—and slightly possessive—smile. "Never work," he announced. "You'd get bored too quick."

"I didn't mean it like that," she said with some asperity as she propped herself on her elbow.

"Oh, what did you mean?" he asked as he pushed a sweat-soaked lock of hair out of her eyes.

"I don't know . . ." Lina struggled to articulate the half-formed thoughts in her head. "I guess, I just thought it would be nice to have a place we could call our own. You know, a place we could go to from time to time. Some place where we wouldn't have to clear out unless it was on our own schedule . . ." she trailed off. As much as she enjoyed the freedom of their current lifestyle, it would be so nice to just be able to fall asleep next to Gourry in a comfortable bed.

"Lina Inverse, wanting to settle down?" Gourry asked incredulously.

"I didn't mean it like that!" she protested. "More like a place we could always go if we wanted. I wouldn't want to stay there all the time," she mumbled.

Gourry captured her free hand in his and brought it to his lips. "I think it would be wonderful," he said in a thick voice. "Like a slice of paradise."

"Mmm . . ." she murmured, reluctantly pulling her hand away. "We should probably get up?"

"Yeah," he agreed regretfully.

As Gourry faced away and sat up on the edge of the bed, Lina hastily pulled on her tunic and scrambled about the room to find her scattered clothes. She shot him a glance of gratitude when he resolutely faced the wall as she dressed.

Once the demands of modesty were addressed, they turned their attention to searching the room for possible clues as to the whereabouts of Lady Gabriev. Although it was sumptuously furnished, there were few personal belongings in evidence, unless you counted the tapestry Gourry had lifted and her clothes. In all honesty, Lina was not exactly sure what she should be looking for. After watching Gourry wander aimlessly around the room, she got the feeling that he was just as clueless as she was.

Finally, she took pity on him. "Why don't you start with the bed-side table," she suggested as she turned to look for hidden panels or compartments.

About half-way around the room, she found a slight gap between the wall-boards, suggesting that there was a hidden door. "Hey, Gourry," she called excitedly as tried to figure out how to trigger it to open. "Come take a look!"

"Uh huh." His response sounded almost automatic and decidedly distracted. Lina turned to see what had captured his attention, wondering if he had found something significant as well.

It turned out that he was in the middle of reading a small book bound in black leather, and as she walked over, he turned a page, swallowing hard as he did so.

"What're you reading?" Lina asked from his shoulder.

Gourry jumped, as if she had startled him, and quickly closed the book, stashing it back in the drawer. "Nothing." He avoided her gaze, but she could tell that his eyes were just slightly glassy and unfocused. "Find something?"

"Yeah," Lina said slowly, as she stared at the ornate pull on the drawer. She had a pretty good idea of what he had been reading, and it surprised her that she felt a flash of annoyance. Not that she minded him reading it, but if anything was going to drive him to distraction, it had damn well better be her, and not smutty trash stashed in a whore's bed-side table!

With a kind of morbid curiosity, Lina pulled the drawer open.

"Uh, Lina?" Gourry asked uncomfortably as she retrieved the book. "I . . . uh . . . I don't think . . ."

"What's wrong?" Lina asked innocently as she thumbed through the book, trying vainly to suppress a blush as a few salacious phrases caught her eye here and there. "After all, _you_ were reading it, right?" She struggled to keep her tone light, even as she realized that the book was a positive treasure trove of information. After reading a particularly vivid description, she wondered if it was even possible for two people to contort themselves like that.

Gourry muttered something indistinct under his breath, and Lina shooed him away. "I found a hidden door or something over there," she said with a vague wave, "go check it out."

She was barely aware of Gourry grumbling as he moved off, but she did retain enough self-possession to realize that she had other things to do besides read . . . even if said reading material was so seductively enticing. Forcing herself to ignore what the actual words said, she flipped through the book, looking for clues. It was written in a neat and very readable hand, although the brown ink was just starting to fade, particularly at the outer margins, where who knew how many hands had gripped the pages. Based on the script and the quality of the ink, she estimated that the book was probably written about half a century ago, maybe as much as a century. The occasional marginalia appeared in several hands, some neat and tidy, some in barely legible scrawl. From what she could tell in her quick perusal, the notes amounted to little more than brief comments about how well various techniques had worked—or not worked, in some cases.

The last page of the book proved to be the most interesting. Scrawled on the flyleaf in a long slanted hand was written, "For my wife, on our wedding night." Strange enough to think that someone would give their wife porn on their wedding night, but the unattributed dedication was rather uninformative. However, Lina noticed that there was a rather suspicious bulge underneath the flyleaf.

As she examined the flyleaf closely, she heard Gourry sigh softly. "Find anything?" she asked.

"Nah," Gourry replied in disgust as he sank into one of the overstuffed chairs. "Just a bunch of pillows and blankets and stuff. What about you?"

"I think there's something under here." The flyleaf was securely glued on three edges, but she quickly found that the edge closest to the binding was unattached, forming a sort of pocket. She ran her finger under the edge and shook the book. A folded sheet of fine parchment reluctantly slid out. Lina carefully smoothed it open. She absolutely loved finding secrets! Maybe it would be a treasure map or a lost spell . . . but even if it turned out to be a recipe for making soap, someone had hidden it away for a reason, and she was sure she could profit from it somehow.

At first glance, the parchment was covered with thin lines that led out from a central hub. For all the world, it looked like someone's drawing of a spider's web. Lina brought the sheet over to the lamp on the mantle to get more light.

"Well?" Gourry asked from his chair.

Lina shrugged. "I'm not sure yet." With better light, she could see that someone had annotated the lines in a very tiny script. She would practically need a magnifying glass to read the text. "But, I think it's a map of some kind."

"What kind of map?"

"Dunno. It's too hard to read it in this light." She folded it up and put it in one of her pockets. "I'll take another look at it in full daylight."

Gourry's shoulders slumped. "So. A linen closet, a book, and a map?"

"Not much to go on, huh?" Lina replied with a sigh. She sank into the chair closest to the fire. "You know, we're probably going about this all wrong."

"How so?"

She stretched her hands out towards the fire. The heat felt good. Although the day had been warm and pleasant, the night had a chill bite to it. "We're looking for objects, but objects can't talk. What we really need is some straight answers."

"You mean Deremar?"

"Actually, I was thinking of his greasy steward. If anyone knows what's going on around here, it's gotta be him." Lina ticked items off on her fingers, "He was the one who hired us, the one who paid us, and he tried to rehire us, right?" She paused until Gourry nodded in confirmation, and then took a deep breath. "He led the villagers against us, and he showed up again with Garik in tow in Levahn . . ." She raked her hands through her hair. "We had the perfect opportunity to question him then and we let it slip right through our fingers!"

"We were kinda busy at the time," Gourry pointed out softly.

Even though there was not even a hint of accusation in his tone, Lina still felt as though she had been kicked in the gut.

"Lina?"

"What did you say to him," she asked, mainly to distract both of them. She knew she would rather not think about Ryan's sudden appearance, the murder of Garik, or the miniature replica of the Sword of Light that had belonged to Gourry's father.

"What?"

"You never told me," Lina pointed out in what she hoped was a calm voice. "What did you say to Elfred back in Levahn?"

"Oh, that. Um . . ." Gourry ran his hand over his head. "I think I told him that if we ever met again, I'd disembowel him."

"You what!" Somehow, in a million years, she never would have thought Gourry capable of vicious threats.

"I wanted to get rid of him quick," he replied with a self-deprecating shrug. "It seemed to do the trick."

Lina laughed weakly. "I guess so." As loath as she was to move, she pulled herself up out of the chair and put out the lamp burning on the mantle. "Shall we go?"

They crept down the stairs, which creaked and groaned, but they were less concerned with alerting anyone on the way out, now that they had accomplished their initial goal. Even if they had to blast their way out of the village, and the entire place was on alert the next day, it would hardly matter. Kidnapping—uh make that inviting guests for pleasant and informative discourse—required considerably less finesse than searching a room for unusual items.

Lina had already started planning their infiltration of Deremar's keep when Gourry suddenly pulled her up short at the entrance of the common room. In addition to the dull red glow from the banked fire, there was now a small guttering candle burning on a round table. The meager illumination revealed two figures seated at the table. The first, who wore a familiar cloak and hood, lifted a tankard to his lips as they entered with one hand. With the other, he toyed with a dagger thrust into the wooden tabletop. The other figure, a woman from the looks of it, was also cloaked and cowled, and sat with hands folded daintily on her lap.

"Zel?" Lina whispered in shock, and she was just about to move forward when Gourry's hand clenched her shoulder spasmodically.

"Still the same old predictable Lina, aren't you?" He pushed back his hood, revealing a face that was horribly scarred on the left side, and took a long draught from his tankard.

Somewhere in the back of her head, a voice started babbling incoherently. A thousand panicked images demanded her attention. He was the one . . . He was the one . . . No. No, not now, please not now. It was done, and she did _not want_ to remember! It was all his fault! Everything changed, and it was all his fault! "Erik," she snarled, trying vainly to ignore the cacophony of memories pounding in her head.

Erik smiled, then. It was both lazily sensual and full of malice. She could feel Gourry tense up behind her, but he made no move to draw his sword. She wanted to collapse into a heap. She wanted to run. To get away, to let Gourry take care of this. She ruthlessly told herself to shut up and stand her ground. It was harder than facing down Shabranigdo himself. If Luna could see her now, she would be so disgusted—even worse, she would be disappointed. Lina forced herself to stand taller. She would make Luna proud of her, no matter what it took.

"Hmm," Erik commented mildly, "maybe not so predictable after all."

Even in the dim light, Lina could feel his eyes moving over her, lingering like an unwanted caress. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this," he said in a voice tinged with longing.

The memory of the child she used to be whimpered and curled up into a tiny ball. She was scared out of her mind. She was furious. At him. At herself. The flames licked at the edge of her consciousness, begging her to come and dance, promising her power and an end to all pain.

"Lina." Gourry's voice behind her steadied her. The whimpering quieted, and the flames receded ever so slightly.

Erik quickly shifted gears. "Ah, this must be the famous protector," he said oily. "I've heard so much about you." He smacked his forehead. "But I've been remiss in my manners. Allow me to introduce you to my companion."

At Erik's words, the woman who had been sitting passively throughout the entire exchange, reached up and pushed the cowl off her head, lifting her face to the light. Lina heard Gourry's sudden gasp behind her, and she struggled to suppress her own. Like Erik, the woman was horribly scarred. Deep grooves ran diagonally from forehead to jaw-line, as if some creature had clawed her across her face. Her eyelids were puckered and sunken, and it was clear that someone had plucked out both her eyes.

With a strangled cry, Gourry pushed past Lina and started towards the woman, only to pull up short when Erik pulled the dagger out of the table and held it at the woman's throat. "I see you, at least, recognize your Lady Mother," he said with a cruel laugh.

"What do you want?" Gourry growled, his hand instinctively clutched around the hilt of his sword.

"I think you know," Erik hissed intently through clenched teeth. Lina felt her entire world tip crazily at an angle. "I want Lina Inverse."

* * *

AN: This chapter has been a long time in coming, I know. It was probably the most difficult chapter to write in the entire story, and actually went through three different incarnations before I finally settled on this one, and even that incarnation went through a couple major revisions. The good news, though, is that the next chapter is already about 2/3 written, so I'm hoping the next update won't take so long! I think I can safely say that the next chapter will have some definitive answers, at long last. Thanks go out to Aniiksa for initial first impressions, and to Filing Sloth for putting up with my temperamental-ness and still being a great beta-reader!

Reader Response:

Stara Maijka: I love the Slavic element you introduce to your fanfics! Sadly, about all I know about the Slavs was that they include Avars and Bulgars, and that they were a thorn in the side of Varangians trying to navigate the Dneiper! I always took the injunction "write what you know" seriously, and I'm much better informed about Western Europe . . .

Lina Gabriev: Lucilla was pretty stupid, wasn't she? Although, I prefer to think of her as driven, but inept. So, did you see Erik coming in this chap? Honestly, I was going to have it be Erik in the last chapter, but I changed my mind . . .

Aniiksa: Don't worry! I'm a happy-ending kind of person myself . . . although based on the direction the story is going, I'm really starting to wonder if a happy ending is even possible . . .

Kawaii Rin-chan: How'd you like the first season (a good one, but Next is still my favorite)? I'm sorry about infrequent updates . . . I'll try to do better!

Angel: Welcome! It's nice to know that people are still finding the story, even though it's over two years old . . .

ZosaruWolfgirl: I know the updates are slow, but I have every intention of finishing (hopefully this summer, but I can't promise . . .) Thanks for the kind words (I know I've said it before, but it really does help me make the effort to find time to write when I know people are really enjoying the product!)

Wazup221: Hope you enjoyed the rest of chapter 2 . . .

Firestorm-244: Thanks for the comments on Lamplight! It was a lot of fun to write! Which quirks are bothering you? There are a couple things I've been seriously thinking about going and changing, and the constructive criticism is always appreciated.


	13. Delirium

Everything went dark—darker than the blackest pitch. The only sound was the heavy thump of her heart and the blood roaring past her ears. Then the steely hiss of Gourry unsheathing his sword.

His blond hair glinted red in the thin light and she could see him, even if her eyes were unwilling to acknowledge anything else. He stood slightly in front of her—in front? Not behind?—sword brandished at some unseen foe, and his left arm flung out before her, protecting her . . . but from what? "What do you want with Lina?" he demanded with a growl.

Mocking laughter. Familiar mirthless laughter that filled her veins with ice and made it difficult to see, to hear, to _think_ . . . "We have some . . . catching up to do, is all. You know, being old friends and all that."

"Over my dead body," Gourry growled.

Why was she just standing there, behind Gourry? She pushed futilely at the fog that clouded her vision, took great gulps of air to banish the coldness inside. A small voice beckoned her, pulled her in, promised a safe place to hide . . . hide?

The tsking of a man who knew he was in the superior bargaining position. "I wouldn't dream of fighting the protector!"

The sound of a wooden chair scrabbling against a hard-packed dirt floor. A small feminine sigh and Gourry's half-strangled gasp. She struggled against the insistent tugging that pulled her away.

"But we might end up with a dead body, regardless." He was all business, now, confident. "Drop your sword! Now!"

A whispered thud of a heavy object falling into the rushes.

_Gourry needs me!_ She knew it was true. Something had upset him. _Let me go! LET ME GO!_

Lina forced her eyes open, valiantly trying to focus. Gourry still stood before her, arm outstretched, but without his sword. She noted the subtle shift in his posture, as he held himself back, hamstrung by the threat to the woman Erik had named as his mother.

Across the room, Erik stood behind Lady Gabriev. He ruthlessly pulled her head back by the hair, exposing her throat. Even in the dim light, Lina could see the thin rivulet of blood that ran down from the tip of the dagger positioned directly over her jugular, to merge with the growing crimson stain on the neckline of her dress.

"So typical of you, Erik," she sneered, taking a step forward while the voice in the back of her mind yammered in panic. _Shut up!_ she thought viciously. She had no time for childhood memories right now. "Always the bully, picking on the ones weaker than you."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Gourry lower his arm and relax his stance ever so slightly, but most of her attention was on Erik. She held his eyes, avoiding the shiny puckered scar tissue on the left side of his face. She also defiantly ignored the memory of flames shooting out of her hands, melting flesh and turning the barn into an inferno. Later. Later, there would be time to put those memories in their proper place.

"Whatever gets the job done, Lina." Did she see the suggestion of hesitation in his eyes? In this light, who could tell? It could just as well be the flickering of the candlelight.

She shrugged, deliberately nonchalant, despite the internal turmoil she felt. "You let the lady go, and you can have me . . . as long as you can keep me, that is." Her tone oozed with derision. Erik was nothing, _nothing_ compared to some of the opponents she had faced—if she said it enough, she might even believe it. She would go with him to save the woman's life, but he was going to regret ever crossing her path again. She smiled coldly at him, silently promising retribution.

"Oh, don't worry," Erik replied smugly. "I've learned from our last encounter." He pulled even harder on Lady Gabriev's hair, forcing her head back at a crazy angle. "You, protector-boy," he sneered, "if you want your mother to stay alive, you'll do _exactly_ what I say."

Gourry swallowed hard, and she could see that he was shaking ever so slightly. She stepped up to him and laid a hand on his arm. He turned to look at her, and it was her turn to swallow hard. His eyes were burning with fury. She had never seen him so enraged in all the time they had been together. Given half a chance, she was sure that he would happily rip Erik apart with his bare hands. "Hey," she said softly, licking her lips with a tongue gone suddenly dry, "it's okay. I'll be fine, really."

"Lina," he grabbed her arms, clenching so tightly that she grimaced in pain. "You think I'm just going to _hand_ you over to him? He's—"

"He's got your _mother_," she hissed. "We don't have a lot of options!"

"I _know_ that!" His features contorted as the rage burning in his eyes spilled over. "Don't you think—"

A soft gasp interrupted them, and they turned to see the tip of Erik's dagger dig deeper into Lady Gabriev's throat.

"Stop!" Lina shrieked. She could not allow Gourry's mother to come to harm. No matter what happened to her. "Leave them alone! I'm the one you want."

"I'm done playing games," Erik spit out in a cold voice. "You, protector-boy. You're going to come over here—slowly, if you value your Lady Mother's life—and collect the special chains I've had prepared."

Gourry hesitated and glanced over at her. "Do it!" she insisted, waving him on. All she wanted was to get this over with. Once she knew his mother was safe, then she could cut loose. If Erik thought he could hold her without a hostage, he was sorely mistaken. She was going to hit him so hard—

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt when she saw Gourry pick up the "chains." They looked more like dull iron beads closely strung on wire, and they, along with the heavy iron circlet, were distressingly familiar.

She blanched slightly and revised the intensity of the spells she was planning to hit him with decidedly downward. Well, like Sis had always said, 'no pain, no gain.'

"I see you recognize the design, hmm, Lina?" His gaze smoldered as he raked his eyes over her. "Make sure you wrap her good and tight."

As he wound the beads around her, Gourry's jaw was clenched so tight, she thought his teeth might shatter into a thousand pieces any moment. Finally, he finished with the beads and placed the circlet on her head. Lina felt the cold weight of the iron come to rest against her brow. At first it was just heavy, but after a moment, it started to sting, like she had just been slapped, or maybe bitten by a thousand mosquitoes. She could also feel it tightening, adjusting to the curve of her head, and she bit back an involuntary cry when she felt it _inside_. A hand leafed through her mind, scooping up this and that, pushing things around. She had the oddest sensation of being put through a strainer: she was being forced through the holes, but her magic stayed behind. It was being gathered in one place, taken away from her! No! She struggled against the force in her head, struggled to keep herself whole.

A sharp pinch at the base of her neck shattered her concentration. Someone cried out in pain, and then everything went black.

* * *

Very slowly, a feather light touch moved over his bare chest, causing him to shiver involuntarily and forget the fact that every muscle in his body ached. He heard a familiar low throaty chuckle, and the small hand began to move with purpose. The susurration of skin on skin followed by moist lips that kissed along the trail blazed by fingers that were so eager to find new ways to pleasure him. Fingers that inched lower . . .

"Lina," Gourry groaned, reaching down to drag her head up for possessive kiss.

There was no one there.

His eyes flew open and scanned his surroundings. He felt a moment of disorientation accompanied by a sudden surge of nausea as the emerald green canopy over his head twisted and whirled.

Green canopy? He was in a very comfortable bed, surrounded by thick velvet curtains. The room in the inn, then? Had it all been a dream?

He remembered the choice before him: Lina or his mother. He could let Lina surrender herself to someone who looked at her . . . Gourry clenched his hands into fists at the memory. It had been a smoldering lust and covetousness. Even in the dim light, he could see it. But the man who wanted Lina had also held his mother and was slowly plunging a dagger into her throat . . . It was like a scene from a nightmare. A very vivid nightmare. Too vivid.

But before the nightmare, the two of them had laid together in this very bed. He struggled against the disorientation. In spite of what his senses had told him, he was alone in the bed—that much was clear. But, he did hear the soft tread of feet against plush carpeting just beyond the curtains. Had Lina started searching without him?

"Lina?" he called out.

The curtains were abruptly pushed back, and he blinked at the sudden flood of bright light. The mid-afternoon sun was streaming through the window.

Sun? But . . . what happened to the night?

All thoughts of night, day, and anything else fled his mind when his eyes finally adjusted and he saw who had pulled back the curtains.

"M-mother?" he asked hesitantly, pushing through the fog in his mind. In the light of day, he could see that the dim light had been inordinately kind. The deep grooves that ran across her face had not healed well at all. In fact, it looked as though they had been forced to heal improperly. But if he dreamed true of his mother, did that mean that it had all been real? "Where are we? What happened? Where's Lina?" he asked as he struggled into a sitting position, trying vainly to ignore the sickening lurch of his stomach or the screaming protest of abused muscles.

"Gourry," she said in that familiar rich voice that had so often sang him to sleep as a child. "Just relax. Everything is going to be fine now."

He reacted automatically, easing back so that he was leaning on the headboard. Against all odds, and after so long, he had finally found his mother. She was safe and . . . well, mostly whole . . . but definitely alive. Somehow, it eased the horrifying memory of the day he had come back to the shattered and gutted keep.

And yet, he also realized that she had not actually answered any of his questions.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out a hand that he guided to his cheek. Her fingers traced the plains of his face, pushing the errant locks that always hung over his eyes out of her way. "You kept your hair long?"

"Yeah," Gourry replied shortly. He had a gnawing sense of unease deep in his gut, a feeling that had little to do with either hunger or nausea. Something was wrong. "Is Lina okay?" he asked.

The fact that his mother turned her head away from him did little to banish the growing panic, and he felt a cold hand clench tight around his heart, making it difficult to breathe. "She's fine," his mother said in a neutral voice after an agonizing moment of strained silence. "How do _you_ feel?"

Gourry found himself assessing his mother's stance the way he might examine an opponent. Her shoulders had tensed up ever so slightly as she spoke. Clearly, she was hiding something from him. On the other hand, he had never known her to lie. His mother had always been brutally honest. If Lina were in danger, his mother would tell him, he was sure. Despite her odd demeanor, he felt the ice gripped around his heart ease ever so slightly. "Where are we?" he asked again, a bit more calmly.

"We're safe here," she answered as she stood and moved unerringly across the room. "I know you must have many questions, but first, you should eat something."

At the thought of food, Gourry's stomach roiled, and the queasy feeling intensified. "I'm not really hungry," he said slowly, struggling to keep his lunch . . . or dinner . . . or whatever meal it was that he had eaten last from coming back up.

"Eat," she said firmly as she set a tray on the bedside. "You'll feel better. I know it's nothing glamorous," she said by way of apology, gesturing to the steaming cup of tea and plain peasant bread. "We thought it best to start you on something simple."

"We?" he asked around a mouthful of bread.

She sighed. "You've spent far too much time away from home," she said with a gentle shake of her head. "You've forgotten all your manners." Then she laughed ruefully. "Not that you ever learned them properly in the first place."

Gourry's mouth suddenly went dry, and he tried, rather unsuccessfully, to swallow the bread that felt more like sawdust than anything else. After coming close to choking, he took a long swallow of the tea. "Have you seen our home?" he demanded in a half-strangled voice. "We don't _have_ a home anymore!"

His mother turned her face towards him, confronting him once again with her ruined features and the sunken hollows that used to hold ice-blue eyes. Her expression tacitly rebuked him, reminding him forcefully that she could not see anything. "I'm sorry," he murmured, taking her hand and squeezing it gently.

"Eat," she repeated in a voice that brooked no argument. "We can talk more when you finish."

Although he had little appetite for the bread, he forced it down, hoping it would settle his stomach. Rye bread was one of his least favorites, especially when they added all those little caraway seeds, with their sharp and bitter flavor. As he ate, he watched his mother cross the room to the mantle, where she uncorked the decanter and poured herself a liberal shot of amber liquor. She twirled the liquid in the glass, warming it between her hands, seemingly staring into their depths, before taking a small sip.

"Finish your tea, Gourry," she commanded without looking up from her glass. "It should help with the nausea."

"Yes'm," he said automatically, draining his cup in two long swallows. He grimaced at the strong licorice flavor. For some reason, his mother favored her teas liberally laced with anise.

As awful as it tasted, the tea actually did help settle his stomach, although it did little for the general aches in his muscles. Why was he so sore? There was something familiar about the way he felt, as awful as that seemed. He started to swing his legs out over the side of the bed, intending to get moving and stretch the kinks out, but as soon as he stuck his foot out, he realized that the only thing keeping him modest was the covers on the bed.

"Your clothes are being washed," his mother announced, much to his chagrin.

"How—"

"I could hear you starting to get up," she said with a smile as she placed her now empty glass on the mantle. "Don't worry. I didn't see a thing!"

"Oh," he replied lamely. Part of him wondered how he would feel if he could never see anything ever again, but mostly, he was scanning the room, and struggling against the overpowering sense of wrongness that was returning with a vengeance. His clothes, his sword, his armor . . . none of them were anywhere to be seen.

"Sight is over-rated," his mother said as she waved a hand dismissively.

Gourry stared at her, wondering stupidly if she meant that he was supposed to listen for his armor, or smell his sword.

She ran a finger over the back of an overstuffed upholstered chair, unerringly tracing the pattern formed by gold threads. "I've found living in darkness to be quite liberating, actually. Now I 'see' with my hands, my ears, and my nose. We depend too much on our eyes, I think. They deceive us more often than not, I'm afraid."

What was she trying to say? He had vague memories of her always trying to teach, and less vague memories of her being upset that he had not been paying attention. She was a lot like Lina in that respect. On the other hand, he clearly remembered the non-verbal lessons she had given him about using the sword, how to subdue an enemy . . .

Abruptly he stood up, realizing why he felt so achy. In an instant, he replayed the events of the previous night. He saw Lina, wrapped from hips to shoulders in dull iron beads, mouth twisted into a rictus of agony and her breath coming in short mewling gasps. He heard Erik's triumphant laugh, as he shoved Lady Gabriev violently into Gourry—she practically flew through the air, woozy from blood-loss, no doubt. Gourry had instinctively reached out to catch her . . . her hand had gone around his neck . . . And the next thing he knew, he was flat on his back in this room.

"Where," he asked in a tightly controlled voice, "is Lina?"

His mother sighed, more in frustration it seemed than with regret. "Sit down, Gourry."

"Where is she?" he demanded a bit louder. "Why did you attack me?" Her hand had gone around the _nape_ of his neck. All she had to do was exert just a bit of pressure with her fingers, and it would be enough to put him out. He still remembered the first time she had demonstrated that move on him, and the way his muscles had ached the next day—the exact same way they felt right now!

"I said, sit down, Gourry!" His mother's voice rang with the authority of a woman used to giving orders and having them immediately obeyed. Gourry sat.

"I had hoped this could wait until her hold on you had weakened." His mother paced back and forth, obviously distraught for the first time that he could ever recall.

"Her 'hold'? What are you talking about?" He stared at her, a sense of horror overtaking his anger that his mother—_his mother of all people_—had incapacitated him at a crucial moment.

With visible effort, she stopped pacing and wrapped herself with the aura of the Lady of the Keep. "Just _listen_, for once, Gourry. Lord Deremar has detained Lina Inverse under my recommendation. He is holding her until it is safe to execute her."

"Execute?" Gourry echoed, hoping this was all a sick joke, but knowing in his gut that his mother was not one for foolish humor. "If this is about Lucilla, we didn't—"

"Lucilla?" Lady Gabriev asked in surprise, shaking her head. "Look, I have no idea what that . . . _woman_," her tone turned the ordinary word into a deadly insult, "has told you, but Lina Inverse was the one who destroyed Gabriev Keep. And for that . . . she _will_ die."

* * *

When consciousness returned, the first thing Lina did, even before opening her eyes or assessing her situation, was to cast a Flare Arrow. At least, she tried. The magic was sluggish and weak, more like a trickle than the powerful flaming gush she was used to. Even worse, as she demanded more power, she felt a dull ache that rapidly and dramatically increased in intensity. Before she had even gathered enough energy to cast a simple light spell, excruciating pain cascaded through her body and she screamed in agony. She released the magic and the immediate surcease from torment bordered on the sublime. As she recovered, she took mental inventory. The last thing she remembered was something trying to pull the magic out of her. No, actually, that was not completely accurate. It had been more like a strange kind of seal. Something had been trying to bring all the magic into one tiny location to be locked away from her reach. Apparently, she had been able to prevent it, although with only limited success.

Once she completed her mental inventory, she gingerly moved on to the physical. In general, her entire body ached, and an itchy stinging sensation circled her head. Not exactly a headache, but it was nearly as bad in its own way. It made it incredibly difficult to concentrate . . . or maybe that was just the high-pitched whine in her ears. Even worse than the aches, the stinging, and the whine, however, was the sensation of being pinned up like a butterfly spread out for display. Slowly, she cracked open her eyes and realized that her initial assessment was not far from the truth.

The last thing she remembered, she had been wrapped in iron beads, much like a caterpillar in a chrysalis. Now, most of the beads were gone, save for the loops that pinned her wrists and ankles. She was spread-eagled, chained to a wall, and—this part made her grind her teeth in impotent fury—draped in swaths of diaphanous _pink_ silk.

"Pink," she groaned in disgust. "Who the hell wrapped me up in _pink_?"

The slight rustle of chains from across the room made her realize that she was not the only one here, wherever "here" might happen to be.

"Actually," a familiar voice announced calmly, "you look good in pink."

Lina slowly lifted her head and forced eyes to focus, wondering if she was actually going to see the person she expected. Like her, he was also chained to the wall, but unlike her, he had considerably more slack. At the moment, he was sitting in a kind of crouch, with his hands wrapped around his knees. He looked decidedly worse for wear, however. One of his eyes was nearly swollen shut, and his clothes were in tatters, revealing assorted cuts and bruises.

"Ryan?" she asked slowly. "What are you doing here?" Out of all the people in the world he was the last . . . no. "You told me Erik was dead," she accused bitterly.

Ryan struggled to a half-crouch. "I thought he was!" he shot back, his voice breaking and ending almost in a wail. "I stood over his grave! Burned incense in honor of his memory!"

"Incense?" Lina asked slowly, trying to make sense of what Ryan was saying.

Any reply Ryan thought to make was interrupted by the rattle of the opening door.

_Speak of a demon, and it'll appear_, Lina thought to herself, closing her eyes. She wondered if she was ready for this. Well, ready or not, she had little choice but to deal with whatever the situation dealt out.

The demon of her past entered into the small cell, took a brief sideways glance at Ryan, and then focused his attention on her. Once again, his gaze raked over her—undressing her with his eyes. That was what people called it, right? He had done the same thing the night before: even in the dim light, she had felt his eyes lingering on her. She hated it. As far back as she could remember—and as much as she would rather not think about those days long past, as much as she wanted it to be done and over, she needed the insight those memories could provide—Erik had looked at her like that. It made her feel soiled.

"What do you want?" she growled.

"Lina the Pink," he replied, sounding almost mesmerized as he ran a finger along the fine, nearly translucent silk from her shoulder down to her breast.

Even though she had absolutely no slack, Lina pulled at her bonds, struggling futilely to free herself and bat his hand away. "Get your filthy hands off me," she snarled, "or you are _so_ dead."

"I've been dead, once," Erik said smoothly in that same abstracted tone. Then he shook himself and smirked over his shoulder at Ryan. "I even have a beautiful granite headstone," he said sardonically. "Isn't that true, little brother?"

Ryan stared at Erik in horror.

Erik stepped back, placed his hand over his heart, and closed his eyes. With sepulchral reverence, he intoned, "'Here lies Erik Umkehrt, Beloved Son and Brother. In you our Hopes abide.'" He dropped his hand and grimaced. "Bah!" he spat out in disgust. "'Beloved.' What a load of crap!"

"I thought you were dead!" Ryan burst out, shooting to his feet. "I thought you were _murdered_. I even avenged your death! Why are you doing this?"

Pain and confusion were writ large on Ryan's face, and Lina was torn between the urge to say 'I told you so,' and sympathy for the brutal shattering of his boyish beliefs. No matter how much she had feared and avoided Erik as a child, in Ryan's eyes, his older brother could do no wrong. Probably one of the happiest days of her life was when Erik had left home to join a band of mercenaries. His return visits were blessedly sporadic and short-lived . . .

"You killed my friend," Erik hissed, grabbing Ryan by the front of his shirt. The already tattered fabric ripped further as he lifted Ryan off his feet. "You were supposed to stick that dagger into Gabriev, not into Garik," he snarled, dropping Ryan, whose face had turned ashen. "But no, you couldn't even do that right."

"Y-you're . . . you're insane," Ryan whispered.

"No," Erik replied in a low intent tone, "no, not insane. Just . . . _driven_." He turned his back on Ryan, and once again Lina was subjected to his intrusive gaze. "You always had it so easy, little brother," he said bitterly. "You were the 'beloved' one. The only 'hope' our parents had in me was that I would go away, die in some forgotten skirmish. You got everything." He reached up and lightly stroked Lina's cheek. "So now, I'm going finish taking the one thing you've always wanted."

Lina felt the rage building as Erik's hand drifted down and started fondling her breast. "I told you to get your hands off me!" Instinctively she called for the fire to roast Erik to a crisp. No one was going to use her as a pawn in some sick twisted sibling rivalry. The magic responded to her call, and almost instantly, she felt the accompanying pain that made it that much more difficult to maintain concentration.

Pain. Pain can be controlled. Pain can be denied. It flows across the nerve endings, tells the brain the body is in danger. But the brain can ignore it. The brain can cut off the messages, interrupt the signal, and carry on.

But this pain was worse than the effort of holding the Ragna Blade, worse than the "nasty shock" of Zangulus and Vrumugun's beads. It was raw electricity running up and down her nerve endings, like a Digger Bolt. If she ignored the pain, it might kill her. 'Death before dishonor,' was all well and good for the stories, but Lina wanted to live.

Over her own screams of agony, she was dimly aware of other voices yelling. No, just one voice. Ryan was begging her to stop. Well, she had made her point. She released the spell, and this time the surcease from pain was such a shock that she felt lightheaded. As the blackness took her, her last coherent thought was that Erik may have her trussed up like a pink butterfly, but by no stretch of the imagination did that make her easy prey.

* * *

No.

"We were so naïve to think that our keep could protect us," his mother said, her voice shaking with fury. "One fireball was all it took to incinerate the palisade."

In his mind's eye, he saw Lina, half smiling as she hurled a fireball, and the subsequent explosion of a random bandits' keep.

No. No way it could be true.

"She demanded the Sword of Light. Held many of the people who lived on the bailey captive, herded up like cattle. And she butchered them one by one when we refused." Tears streamed down her face at the memory.

Gourry could hear his mother's pain, but also the echo of Lina's voice cajoling and wheedling, trying to get him to give her the Sword.

Could it be true?

"Your father and brother challenged her to buy time, to buy the safety of our people. She cut them down without a backward glance, she _laughed_ over their bodies! And then she destroyed the keep with a huge ball of fire bigger than the imagination!" Gourry's mother clenched her hands into fists, her face contorted with pain, rage, and hate.

The Dragon Slave. It had to be. It was Lina's favorite spell. How many times had he seen her use it? Against the Kingdom of Zoana, in Seyruun . . .

"Dra-mata, they call her," she bit out. "Enemy of all who live! She deserves to die!"

"NO!" Gourry shouted. "No!" he repeated, a bit softer but with no less intensity.

"Yes!" she shouted back, gesturing to her face. "I was there! I saw her, heard her laughing. It was her!"

"No!" Gourry repeated in a wail. "No!" He seemed incapable of saying anything else. How could this be happening? It had to be a mistake. Some type of misunderstanding.

"That flat-chested woman-child! She maimed and killed all who resisted, and then looted the keep! She took everything of value," Gourry's mother stood up, smiling triumphantly through her tears, "except the thing she most sought! Oh, how she raged when she realized the Sword of Light had slipped her grasp!"

He remembered leaning against a wall, a scant few days ago, watching Lina pick through everything the bandits of Levahn had assembled, looking for anything valuable that she could carry off.

Everything fit. It was exactly how Lina operated. Except he _knew_ Lina. She attacked bandit gangs, not castles and keeps. Even in Zoana, it had been against a golem run amok . . . in Seyruun to prevent a floating chunk of earth from destroying the city . . . She was greedy and she had begged him mercilessly for the Sword of Light, but she had never forced the issue. And she would _never_ take hostages. She would _never_ kill innocent people in cold blood.

"No," he said firmly. "You're wrong. Lina didn't do it. I know she didn't."

Lady Gabriev's face went white. "What did she do to you?" she demanded in a ragged whisper. "What did that woman do?"

"Nothing!" Gourry burst out. "Don't you see? It's a mistake! It's got to be some kind of mistake!" It had to be. The Lina he had sworn to protect would never roast people and carve them up to eat!

The shock and rage on his mother's face slowly gave way to understanding. "Oh, Gourry," she said in a gentle voice, "it's okay. We'll work this out, somehow." She sat next to him and wrapped her arms around him. "Somehow, we'll break that woman's hold on you—"

Gourry had been on the verge of relaxing into the familiar feel of his mother's comforting arms around him, but he bolted up straight at her words. "What—"

"Shh," she soothed, tightening her hold on him. "I know it's not easy right now. Just be patient. Soon, you'll understand."

"Understand what?" He shook his head, feeling like he was missing some crucial part of the conversation. If only Lina were here. She would understand what was going on!

With a sigh, his mother smoothed his brow and then stood up. "You should get some rest, Gourry. You've been through a lot these past few days."

"But I'm not—" Even as he spoke the words, he felt a wave of lethargy surge through him. Suddenly, his eyelids were so heavy, that it was a struggle to keep them open. He had just enough time to wonder what was wrong with him before he slid into unconsciousness once again.

* * *

The last summer Lina spent at home had been the best time of her life. Her parents had finally started trusting her enough to run the family business while they were away. And when they were home, she spent her days with Ryan, exploring the forest around their town, scheming ways to make some extra money, and generally just enjoying each other's company.

One of their favorite places to meet was the barn behind Ryan's house. Sometimes they jumped from the loft into the hay below. Sometimes they took the horses out riding. Other times, they just sat and talked. And once, just once, towards the end of the summer, they had kissed. It was the shy tentative kiss of two awkward adolescents on the cusp of adulthood. That same day, as they walked hand-in-hand in a sun-dappled clearing, Ryan had given her a small wooden falcon that he had secretly carved.

The day after that, Ryan left to spend time with cousins who lived in the capital city. His parents wanted him to gain new experiences and make new contacts. Networking for the future, they had called it.

Lina missed him desperately, and she frequently went to the barn, where she would lay on the hay, remembering the time they had spent together. For some reason, it made her feel closer to him.

She was there, daydreaming in the barn, the day Erik came home. When she first heard the single horse outside the barn, she had thought that maybe it was Ryan, and she had sprung up, ready to greet him. The words had died on her lips when Erik led his horse in, and although she tried to make herself small and hide, he had noticed her almost immediately. He had looked her up and down in that way that she so hated, and then he had smiled at her. Lina remembered that very clearly. Something about his expression had paralyzed her with fright.

He had overpowered her easily, ignoring her cries and protests, ignoring the kicks and scratches and bites she rained on him as she struggled futilely to free herself. She remembered the splitting pain as he thrust into her—not just the pain of sundered maidenhead, but of something breaking open within her. Raw power coursed through her, making her nerve endings jangle from scalp to toes. There was a sense of pressure, of mounting heat, begging to be released. Her desperate terror transformed into rage.

Something must have warned him, because Erik suddenly pulled away from her, with just a hint of uncertainty flitting across his face. But Lina had already found her target, and the flames burst forth from her hands. Power ran over her, through her, and out of her. She remembered Erik screaming and the disgusting smell of burnt hair and flesh. The dry hay burst into flame a second later, turning the barn into an inferno as the horses whinnied in panic.

A part of her gloried in the power, in the rushing feel of pure magic, unknowingly pent up and suddenly released in violence. Another part of her shrunk back in fear and tried to run and hide. She wanted to stop the flames. She wanted to give herself to the surge.

She vaguely remembered losing touch with everything, save the coursing of magic through her. Everything she was began and ended with the flow of power. She was flame! Let her burn! Let all turn to ash!

Luna later told her they had heard her scream from one end of the town to the other. She had no memory of doing so, although she believed it, as she had been unable to say anything above a whisper for a week or more, not that she had much of an urge to say anything. She had slept, only to awake with an enormous appetite that drove her to eat ravenously, and then she collapsed into sleep again to repeat the cycle. She had the sense—not so much an actual memory—that Luna had been by her side the entire time, holding her against the terrible nightmares, smoothing her brow as she drifted into the sleep of exhaustion.

When she had finally recovered, Luna had begun training her, teaching her both the blade, and more importantly, how to control the magic. She was a stern taskmistress, demanding a level discipline Lina had never dreamed possible.

The first few days of training, Lina reveled in the fact that she was the center of Luna's attention. She had always admired her big sister, even if she was a little afraid of her, too. But as the tasks became more difficult, Lina grew increasingly uncooperative and sullen. It was fun when everything was easy, but now . . . now it was starting to hurt. Strained muscles, nicks and cuts, and the mental focus Luna insisted upon frequently resulted in splitting headaches.

One day, Lina refused to get out of bed. She had had enough, and that was it. Luna had first appealed to her pride, and then to her sense of greed, and finally she had yelled. Lina just pulled the covers over her head. Nothing was going to make her change her mind. She was through with all this training. And then she heard something she had never thought she would ever hear. Luna was crying. Tentatively, she peeked through a crack in the covers, leery of some kind of trick, but her eyes confirmed what her ears had claimed. Luna was crying and that scared Lina more than anything had ever scared her before. Even more than that terrible thing she refused to think about. Lina had started crying, too, and begged her sister to stop. She would do anything Luna asked. Luna had held her close, and in an aching voice that broke Lina's heart, explained that Lina had to be strong. She had to be able to protect herself, because Luna would not always be there to save her.

After that day, Lina threw all her energy into Luna's lessons. Without consciously realizing it, although it was very clear in retrospect, she applied her new abilities to help lock the memory of that day away.

By the time the leaves had all fallen, but before the first storms of winter hit, her parents gave her two pieces of news. The first had filled her with a mixture of eager anticipation and nervous trepidation: the Sorcerer's Guild had accepted her for formal training, in spite of her youth. She was the youngest student in living memory. The second had flayed her soul to the quick: Ryan had broken their engagement.

* * *

"You were dreaming about her again," his mother accused as she pushed a fresh cup of her anise-laced tea into his hands. "You were calling her name."

Gourry said nothing in reply as he drank down the tea without tasting it. Anise in his tea, and caraway seeds in his bread. He could no longer bring himself to care. The dreams were becoming more real than reality itself. In his dreams, Lina was with him, at his side. She touched him, and he could _feel_ her.

Reality was this crazy world, where his mother insisted that Lina had destroyed Gabriev Keep. Over and over, like a litany, she described Lina's crimes. She described Lina's appearance, her spells, her character . . . it all fit, all of it, except for the fact that he still believed Lina could never be so cruel.

Reality was where he had trouble concentrating and was frequently irritable. He was so easily distracted. It could be something a simple as the light refracting through the window, casting a rainbow pattern on the floor, and he would stare at it, mesmerized, watching its slow progress across the floor. Maybe it was all the inactivity from being stuck in this room, with nothing more than a loose linen shirt to answer the demands of modesty. Half of the time, he was so disoriented that he had trouble figuring out where he was and why he was there. They refused to let him out until they had "broken Lina's hold over him," whatever that meant. Whoever "they" were. His mother refused to say.

Reality was where there was only anguish and pain. His poor blinded mother . . . Gourry was starting to wonder if she might be insane. Was it normal to have such unreasoning hate? No matter how many times he tried to explain it, she refused to listen. She just insisted that he was under some type of spell, that Lina had ensorcelled him to prevent him from seeing the truth.

Part of him wished he had never found the magicked hair in the dagger, if this is who she had become. Then he felt guilty for feeling that way. It was like she expected him to renounce his feelings for Lina. As much as he loved his mother, he could no more renounce Lina for her sake than cut off his sword arm. In fact, it would probably be easier to cut off his sword arm than give up his feelings for Lina. In all the time they had been traveling together, this was the longest they had ever been apart. He missed her so desperately, was it any wonder he sought her in his dreams?

And the pain? When had it started? He had lost all sense of time. It was a burning sensation in his fingers and toes that came and went. Sometimes it was worse than others. He was starting to lose some mobility in his left hand, and a part of him thought this should seriously concern him, but he found it very difficult to care. All he wanted to do was sleep, so he could dream of Lina. Dream of a world where they were together and there was no one else.

* * *

Lina slowly opened her eyes to the small dungeon, where she was still chained to the wall across from Ryan, who was very obviously not looking at her. Lina glanced down and realized that at least one thing had changed: while she was still draped with the pink silk, it no longer afforded her any degree of modesty.

"What happened?"

Ryan very deliberately looked her in the eye, scrupulously keeping his gaze above the neck, as it were. While she appreciated the sentiment, his intentional avoidance only served to underscore the fact that she was pretty much naked from the neck down. She clamped down on the urge to struggle against her bonds and cover herself. It would just serve to annoy her by accentuating her current immobility. Right now, she needed her faculties if she was going to figure out how to get out of this situation.

"I could ask the same question," he finally answered, staring at the top of her head.

"Would you stop doing that, already?" Lina demanded. "It's just making it worse!"

"I-I . . . that is . . ." Ryan stammered, and tried to find a place to put his eyes. Finally he sighed resolutely, and hid his face in his knees.

Lina took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm her temper. She deliberately cataloged the items in the room, few though they were. There were several wall sconces, each supporting a burning torch, which meant the room was very well-lit, considering it looked very much like a dungeon. There were manacles bolted to the wall, including the ones that held her and Ryan captive. There was also a rough cot in the middle of the room, beyond the reach of either of them. She tried to remember if it had been there before, but she doubted it.

"Did Erik—"

"No," Ryan cut her off, his voice muffled by his knees. "I don't know what you did, but your whole body was arcing with white lightning. He couldn't touch you, and when you went unconscious, he just left without saying anything."

"How—"

"He came back later," Ryan interrupted her again, his voice sounding strangled, now. "He . . . He just . . . touched . . . he just moved . . . the silk . . . ." Ryan drew in a long ragged breath. "What the hell happened to him? He didn't used to be like this . . ."

"You just never saw it," Lina said very softly. Her skin positively crawled at the thought of Erik—of anyone, really—touching her while she was hanging unconscious on a wall. It was small consolation that in protecting herself, she would leave herself subsequently vulnerable. "How long?" she asked suddenly.

Ryan shrugged. "I've lost track. A couple days? Maybe more, maybe less. They've replaced the torches a couple times. I don't know, how long do torches last?"

"A couple . . . _days_?" Lina echoed incredulously. Her stomach rumbled in protest at the thought of going so long without food, but she barely noticed. Where was Gourry? Out of all the times he had stepped up to "protect" her, whether she needed it or not . . . No. This time, she had to rely on herself for a rescue.

Lina grit her teeth and started calling for the magic, sluggish though it was.

"What're you—" Ryan started in a panicked voice.

"No pain, no gain," Lina bit out between gasps. Control the pain, control the fear, control the magic.

* * *

Gourry sat on the windowsill, quietly contemplating the heavy ornate chair his mother sat in. If he put the chair through the window, he could be free of this nightmare.

If only he could. In spite of the anise and the caraway seeds, both of which his mother claimed should settle his stomach, he was almost constantly nauseous, and he had difficulty keeping down anything beyond the tea and the toast that he was consistently served. He had frequent tremors in his hands, in addition to the burning sensation that was nearly constant. It was the worst in his left hand, and he was torn between relief and horror at the fact that he had lost all feeling in his pinky, and the tip of the finger was starting to turn black.

The truth of the matter was that putting a chair through the window was beyond him at this point. Even if he could force his fingers to grip the chair, he was so emaciated from the vomiting and diarrhea that he lacked the strength to even move it. It required all his energy to cross the room, and even then, he had to stop and rest about half-way across. If only he had thought about escaping days ago, when he still had the strength! Unfortunately, he knew that the lucidity came and went. Right now he was clear-headed for the first time in . . . he had no idea how long. How long would it last? Another question to which he had no answer.

"What's wrong with me?" he whispered under his breath.

"It's that woman," Lady Gabriev muttered venomously. He had forgotten how good her hearing was, now. "Erik was supposed to kill her! If he had, I know you would feel better! It's her poison eating into you, destroying your mind and making you betray your kin!"

"Shut up!" Gourry roared. He saw his mother flinch back, but he was beyond caring. "How many times do I have to tell you! Lina isn't like that!"

"Don't you dare raise your voice to me, young man," she responded in cold fury. "You may be full grown, but you are still my son!"

"No," Gourry lowered his voice with an effort, but he could not hide the anger. "I don't know who you are, but my mother was kind and loving. She was fair. She taught me to always look for the good in people. You. You've become vindictive and cruel. You've judged Lina without even hearing her side of it." He stood and loomed over her, forgetting the nausea and weakness in his fury. "You _tricked_ us, made me think Erik was threatening you . . . Lina turned herself over to him for your sake AND IT WAS ALL A LIE!"

The strength of his anger burned itself out with his final shout, and he collapsed onto the floor at his mother's feet, quietly sobbing in frustration at his weakness.

"Gourry . . ." he felt her hand reach out tentatively to stroke his head. "I've done it all for you. To save you," she said in a voice choked with tears.

"I know," he replied in a tone drained of all emotion. "But you're wrong." He lifted his face to hers, confronted by her ruined features. "You're wrong. And if this is salvation, I'd rather be in Hell."

* * *

Keys rattled on the other side of the door, and Lina heard the heavy thunk of the bolt turning. She braced herself for another session with Erik.

That first day, he had described himself as driven, and Lina thought that was a particularly apt description. He wanted her weak and helpless, crying and begging for mercy, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. If he so much as touched her, she called the magic, forcing him away, even if she could not quite do anything more complicated than a light spell. And although he had several opportunities to have his way with her when her attempts to control the magic and the pain proved inadequate and her mind and body sought the bliss of unconsciousness, Ryan had made it clear that Erik never did anything more than stare at her from the cot in the center of the room. He had only touched her that first time. Apparently, he wanted her awake and aware, but awake, she could defend herself quite easily, even if that was the limit of her independence at the moment. Impasse.

Today, he came in with two maids. One of the girls carried a tray filled with food, and Lina felt her mouth water. She had trouble remembering the last time she had eaten. Ryan had been fed on a regular basis, but as she was still pinned up to the wall, there was no way she could feed herself. The other girl looked vaguely familiar, and carried a bucket of water. Erik sat himself on the cot as he usually did, with his back to Ryan, but without blocking him from Lina's sight.

"Food and a bath, today," Erik announced with a feral smile.

Lina wondered if her luck was about to change. If he was going to let her eat, he would have to let her down. And once she was no longer stuck to the wall like some butterfly on display, it was going to be payback time.

Before it even had a chance to bloom, Erik crushed the small seedling of hope under his boot heel. "Anna, you'll need to feed Miss Inverse, as you can see that she is quite incapable of feeding herself."

"I'd be perfectly capable of feeding myself if you let me down," Lina growled. "You can't keep me pinned up here forever."

"Can't I?" Erik asked smoothly as he gestured to the girl with the food, Anna, Lina supposed. "Who's going to stop me? Ryan? Or your so-called 'Protector?'" He crooked up a leg on the cot, and propped his elbow against it, resting his cheek upon a loosely curved fist. "You see, Lina, there's no one to come rescue you this time. Gabriev is in the loving care of his mother, and I doubt Ryan is going anywhere anytime soon. Isn't that right, little brother?" Erik laughed softly.

"You're forgetting someone," Lina bit out through clenched teeth. Something about Erik gloating over the reunion between Gourry and his mother bothered her, but she found it difficult to concentrate on anything besides the smell of the soup in the bowl Anna held. She could practically taste it, and mind was locked in a battle with her stomach. Her mind said that she should reject the food, and hold out for some modicum of mobility. Her stomach was not as patient and demanded instant gratification. Mind argued that some things, like Gourry for instance, were more important than food. Stomach countered with an ominous rumble, reminding mind that without food, there was no body for the mind to live in.

"I am?" Erik asked innocently. "And who might that be?"

"Me, you idiot! Me!" Stomach won the battle, and Lina greedily drank down the soup from the bowl Anna had pressed to her lips. Mind bemoaned the lost opportunity. Stomach responded with a self-satisfied belch. She turned her gaze back to Erik. Let him think it was empty blustering. She was getting stronger. It was painstakingly slow—not to mention incredibly painful, but one of these days, he was going to walk in and find a fireball greeting him. Lina doubted he would survive it this time.

Erik waved his hand dismissively. "Ryan tells me that you've just barely mastered the light spell. I hardly think I have anything to worry about." He snapped his fingers, gesturing to the other girl, "Elaina! Your turn!"

Lina glared at Ryan, who had the grace to flush guiltily, but he said nothing. He just sat there huddled with his arms wrapped around his legs, and his head pillowed on his knees. She knew that he talked to Erik, but he never did it while she was awake. When she had asked him why, he had babbled something incoherent about him being different when she was out of it. Was it possible . . . that Ryan was . . . collaborating with Erik? Why else would he tell him that she had finally managed to cast Light? With a sick feeling, Lina remembered that day in Levahn, she had seen Erik—although she had thought he was Zel at the time—and then just moments later, she had seen Ryan going the same direction.

All thoughts about possible collusion between Ryan and Erik were forcefully banished by the realization that Erik was going to watch while the other girl, Elaina, bathed her. She had a hard time figuring out what bothered her more: the idea of some stranger washing her, or the idea of Erik and Ryan watching some stranger wash her. Lina fought a losing battle against the blush that spread across her face. She blushed even harder when Elaina winked at her and slowly pulled the pink silk off her body. Suddenly, the only sound in the cell was the whisper of fabric against flesh.

The girl dropped the silk in a heap behind her, and hunched down, swirling a wash towel in the bucket of water. Lina could feel the blood burning in her cheeks. It was no longer a blush of embarrassment; now it was the heat of rage. So Erik had found a way around her protection. He could not touch her directly, so he was going to do it vicariously through this girl. As Elaina dribbled water over Lina's torso, Lina glared at Erik. If he thought she was just going to quietly sit here and be a spectacle for him . . .

All it would take was a slight jolt. There was probably no need to go full out in order to get this girl to back off. Lina was on the verge of trying to cast a spell, when she felt something cool and solid being pressed into palm of her hand. She curled her fingers around the object, and as Elaina worked the rough washcloth along her arm, she mouthed the words, "Make it good."

Suddenly, Lina realized why Elaina looked vaguely familiar. She was the one from the inn, the girl Garik had been pawing that day in the storage shed. Her eyes widened briefly, but she tried not to give any other indication that she recognized the girl. But "make it good?" Make what good? She had no intention of putting on a show for Erik, if that was what the girl meant. Elaina looked up at her, silently pleading, even as she dragged the washcloth over Lina's body, working soap into flesh coated with sticky dried sweat from all of Lina's attempts to master the pain and free herself from Erik's bonds. The smooth caress of her hands was at odds with the desperate entreaty in her eyes.

It was rape, but of a far different nature than the one Erik had forced on her all those years ago, or Garik's attempt that day in the shed. Both of them were being used against their will for the enjoyment of another, someone who reveled in their humiliation. And Lina knew exactly how to respond.

Without moving a muscle, she growled in a voice full of fury. "Get off me _now_, or so help me . . ."

Elaina skitted back away from Lina and glanced nervously at Erik, who wore a half-glazed look. Lina clenched her hands into fists, straining impotently at the bonds that kept her immobile, and also concealing the metal pin Elaina had slipped into her hand.

* * *

It was the same dream again. He could feel Lina's hands stroking over him, feel her warm mouth kissing a trail across his chest. He so wanted the wrap his arms around her, but every time he gave into the temptation, he ended up clutching air. As long as he could restrain himself, she would stay.

He heard her low throaty chuckle as a light feather stroke provoked a shiver that raised gooseflesh along his sides. Oh, how he loved these dreams, loved feeling Lina so close to him. And how he hated the bitter disappointment when he gave into the impulse to touch her body they way she touched his, only to find that he was really alone.

All his senses were attuned to her, save sight, as he kept his eyes tightly closed so that they would not give the lie to what the others claimed. The tickle of her long hair as she trailed warm wet kisses down to his navel. The sound of skin sloughing against skin, the whisper of the sheets as she moved against him Her breath coming faster as her hands moved with greater intensity, greater purpose. The musky smell of an aroused woman.

"Lina," he groaned, knowing he was fast approaching the breaking point, where he would shatter the dream illusion even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

A hesitation. The hands touching him stilled momentarily. "Gourry?" she whispered.

This was different. She never stopped until he reached for her. In this dream, she never called his name. Was it real this time? Could it actually be her? "Lina?" he whispered as he tentatively reached out his hand to stroke her hair, barely daring to hope, and steeling himself for the acid frustration of feeling nothing save his own flesh.

Questing fingers brushed against her upturned face, and Gourry felt his heart surge with exultation. This was real! This was finally real! Not a dream! He dragged her up along his body, heard her gasp as he flipped her onto her back. Still there! Gods, she was still there, it was real! Real! He could feel the tears welling up as he pressed a possessive kiss on her, his hands greedily exploring her body. She opened herself to him, as eager as he to consummate their desire.

They writhed against each other, a tangle of limbs and bedclothes. Gourry was beyond all thought, beyond wondering how she could be here—be real—after so long. He only thanked the gods, as he gasped her name, seeking sweet release in her flesh.

* * *

AN: A quicker update this time! I hope I didn't shock anyone too horribly! Most of the imagery in this chapter assaulted me one night when I was suffering from an uncharacteristic bout of insomnia . . . with all of these images, I guess it was no wonder I had a hard time sleeping. Thanks go out again to Filing Sloth for beta-reading!

On a more somber note, Aniiksa caught someone plagiarizing Flam Gush, taking chunks of my prose and dumping it directly into their story. I'm more than a bit distressed, because I was fully intending on fixing some of the typos and errors that I missed before posting, and improving the flow on a few sections I was not so happy with. Now, though . . . I think to be safe, I need to leave the story as is—at least on nobody can accuse me of plagiarizing them.

Reader Response: (wow! I'm only 2 reviews away from 100!)

Klb101: I know, I know I was evil to end the chapter there! (My beta reader made me do it . . . ) It worked so _nicely_ though! Hope you liked the quick update!

Kawaii Rin-chan: Well, now you know why Erik spooks Lina! As to what happened to Lady Gabriev, I'm sitting on that one for a little bit longer . . .

Angel362: Is this more enough?

DQBunny: You found the story at the right time! I'm on my summer break (not that there's much of a break) and have a bit more energy than usual for writing for fun! As you can see, you were right on the money about Lina's virginity . . .

Aniiksa: Don't give up on the happy ending, yet! Although . . . if something doesn't change soon, Gourry's going to be in serious trouble . . .

Stara Maijka: Well, the answer is "yes" to at least one of your questions, but I'm not going to say which one, yet! Although . . . some of them were answered pretty definitively in this chapter, weren't they? All I'll say for certain is that not everyone is as they seem . . .

Exmes: Thanks for the review! Hope this update counts as "quick" enough . . .

ZosuruWolfgirl: I'm not sure who had the hardest time in this chapter, Lina or Gourry (although my beta is pulling for Gourry . . .) I have to confess, Erik has absolutely no interest in allowing Lina and Gourry to be together . . .

Brenda: I'm a firm believer in just one explicit lemon per story! Um . . . the last scene doesn't count as lemon, right?

quirkyslayer: (blushes) I'm glad you're enjoying the story. And thanks! I keep worrying that the plot is too far-fetched, so I'm glad it's working!


	14. Storm the Keep

She watched him sleep, truly seeing him for the first time in a very long time. There were dark circles under his eyes, silent testimony of the strain he had been under. Bruises had faded to a sickly, but pale, yellow, a wrenching indication of how much time had passed.

Time. It was hard to believe that so much had gone by. He was familiar, but at the same time, he had changed. The only question was how much. Could she trust him?

For now, Lina chose caution above all else. The metal pin Elaina had given her thrummed in her hand. She could feel the power in it, although she was not exactly sure what to do with it. Gingerly, and carefully, she held it between thumb and forefinger, twisting her head and squinting to try and get a good look at it. It looked just as it felt, basically like a smooth dull-iron rod. It fit nicely in her palm, and its power was strangely soothing. Although Lina's hands were stiff from disuse and poor circulation, her fingers closed easily over the metal rod, and her right arm felt strangely refreshed.

Okay, so it helped her circulation. Was that all? Lina considered. Although it was clear the rod had some type of magical power, it was not activating the beads. Was it possible that it could counteract the beads? She tried casting a simple spell, just a trick really, not even anything as strong as a light spell, and immediately the pain arced up her body. She bit her lips against the scream, having no desire to wake Ryan. So much for that idea.

Lina was fully aware that it was possible that the rod did nothing more than make her arm feel refreshed, although she seriously doubted it. Why else would Elaina go to the trouble of giving it to her? At any rate, she had little better to do at the moment, so she continued her investigation.

Maybe if she touched the rod to one of the beads? Given the fact that she had very little slack, this required a very careful manipulation of rod and fingers, and she was heartily grateful that she seemed to have retained her manual dexterity. Even so, she almost dropped it a couple of times. If only it were a bit longer! But then, it would not hide so neatly in the palm of her hand, either. Finally, she made contact between rod and bead, waiting expectantly and hoping for something . . . anything . . .

Nothing.

She wanted to howl in frustration. Instead, she grit her teeth and moved on to the next item on her mental list. Maintaining the contact between rod and beads, she focused a small pulse of power in her right hand. She started with a short burst, and figured she would work her way up in intensity.

Lina squinted down her arm. The bead had crumbled into a powdery substance. The good news was that it only took a minimal amount of magic. The bad news was that she could only neutralize one bead at a time and she was unable to affect the underlying wire.

This was going to take a while.

* * *

The moonlight streamed in through the window, leeching all color and casting the room into a stark contrast of shadow and pools of opalescence. There was no warmth in the pale glow.

The light called him. Gourry awkwardly pushed himself out of the bed, and half-staggered into the largest pool on feet that alternatively burned and went numb. He stood, bathed in the pale glow of moonlight, hearing it whisper half-coherent promises. It spoke of escape from all pain.

Pain. Pain was once again awakening to find himself alone. Pain was the near-constant burning in his limbs, the ache of abused belly that could barely tolerate weak tea.

Ah, but it need not be like this, the moon whispered in his ear, soft and seductive, like a lover. He lifted his face to the full orb that hung low in the sky, pregnant and inviting, a mischievous capricious woman who taunted him, called him closer with a siren cry.

Fingers that had lost much of their former dexterity fumbled with the latch that held the window closed. A soft cool breeze rifled through his hair, adding its sibilant promise to that of the moon.

Come, they called. Come to us. Be free!

_Free!_ Gourry echoed as he stared at the moon. She dipped closer to him, held out her hand, promising him release. The breeze surrounded him, caressed him, supported him.

Gourry stepped out of the second story window to grasp the hand of the moon.

* * *

With each bead, it got easier. As each one collapsed into a fine white powder, the pain lessened—it was barely perceptible, but it was there. Lina quickly discovered however, that while less pain made it easier to concentrate, she still had difficulty tapping into her full potential. No wonder Erik had scoffed at her. She might eliminate the pain caused by the beads, but the circlet on her head still sealed the magic, even if improperly and incompletely.

A tiny part of her screamed that she was stripping herself of any protection. The threat of pain seemed to be the only thing that kept Erik from touching her. A small jolt, and another bead crumbled into dust. Even if she could destroy all of the beads—and it remained to be seen if she could do so—she still had the wire and the manacles to contend with. With a grunt, she destroyed yet another, working as quickly and methodically as she could, in spite of the chaotic whirling of her thoughts. And that was just one arm. She had yet to figure out how she was going to get the rod over to the other hand . . . Still, the pain was the major obstacle keeping her pinned to the wall at the moment. She was just going to take this one step at a time. One bead at a time. She pressed her lips into a thin line as she carefully maneuvered the metal rod. Patience was never her virtue, and it was being stretched awfully thin at the moment.

"So, what's your plan?"

Lina jerked involuntarily at Ryan's question, nearly loosing her grip on the metal rod. "No plan," she bit out between clenched teeth. Her neck positively ached from craning it, trying to get a better view of the beads looped around her wrist. "I'm just making this up as I go." She steeled herself against the jolt, and then sighed in barely suppressed frustration. One more down . . . who knew how many more to go? It may be getting easier, but it was not getting any less tedious.

"Neat trick," Ryan observed. "So that's how it works, huh?"

Lina fought the urge to hurl the metal rod at Ryan when his stupid comment nearly made her drop it. Never mind that he was breaking her concentration with inane observations, the fact that he could tell what she was doing from across the room could mean one of two things: the missing beads were so obvious that anyone could see (which meant that she had better be finished before anyone showed up—a near impossible task under the best of circumstances), or he knew about the pin, and had chosen not to say anything about it until now. "Exactly how long," she said, enunciating very carefully and deliberately as she tried to focus her attention on the task at hand, "have you been watching me?"

"You don't trust me," Ryan answered bitterly. "Do you." His tone made it a statement, rather than a question.

"Why'd you tell Erik that I could only cast light?" Lina shot back in a scathing tone. "Doesn't exactly inspire trust, you know. Not to mention the fact that I saw you chasing after him in Levahn, and he set you up to kill Gourry—"

"When did I—" Ryan cut himself off with visible effort, and took a deep breath. "I-I only told him . . . because I hoped it would _discourage_ him . . . He thought he had sealed your magic completely . . . I—"

"Of all the stupid, idiotic," Lina interrupted, finding a ready target for her frustration. "If I weren't stuck in these stupid chains, I'd fireball you into tomorrow! Don't you know that information is incredibly valuable! If I wanted Erik to know what I could do, I would've given him a demonstration! Sheesh, and I thought Jellyfish-for-Brains was stupid, but you—" She broke off and swallowed hard, wondering what had happened to Gourry.

"I . . ." Ryan trailed off and swallowed hard. "He's . . . obsessed . . . with you . . . with _possessing_ you . . ." He looked visibly ill.

If he was acting, he was doing an awfully good job of it. She found herself torn between angry suspicion and . . . a very strange emotion. It was part sympathy and part disgust for his sniveling. Sure, things had not exactly been a walk in the park for either of them, but he should just take these things like a man. Lina closed her eyes, clearly seeing Gourry walking beside her through a forest glade, telling her that she should take her hunger like a man. It made the contrast between him and Ryan all the more stark.

"He told me, you know," Ryan forced out in a strangled sounding voice. "About that day . . . in the barn . . ."

Lina recoiled, and she could feel the panic welling up in her once again. Her own memory of that day was so raw, so recently brought to the surface. Even now, she fought the urge to cringe, remembering how helpless she had felt, the desperate terror, and the sharp tearing sensation of being split apart in violence.

"I . . . I'm sorry," Ryan whispered.

"Sorry?" Lina asked, surprised. "What do you have to be sorry about? You're not the one who raped me!" The words burst forth before she could censor them.

Ryan blanched.

Lina forced herself to continue, forced herself to say something—anything—to break the power of that horrible memory. "At least . . . at least I had . . . a way to defend myself . . . at least I discovered . . . the magic—"

"That's sick!" Ryan burst out.

"It's better than wallowing!" she returned with equal heat. "It happened. I can't change it! You can't change it!"

"But _it_ changed everything, didn't it?" he asked bitterly. "That's why you broke our engagement, isn't it?"

"Why I . . ." Lina trailed off, flabbergasted, her mind working furiously. And suddenly, it all made sense. All the little pieces fit together: why Luna had told her to go and travel the world, why Ryan seemed so wistful every time he looked at her, why Gourry had thought that she had broken it off . . . "Let me guess," she said bitterly. "Your parents sat you down and told you I had broken it off, right? Some time after I left for the Sorcerers' Guild?"

"What are you saying?" Ryan asked angrily, "that my parents lied?"

"Who told you Erik was dead?" Lina answered quietly. "My parents told me that _you_ broke it off. Right before I left for training."

Ryan stared at her with growing horror in his eyes. Lina's heart wrenched, wondering how much more he could take. She ached for what they had once had, even if she could not regret its loss. Part of her railed against their parents for making such an important decision for them . . . And for what purpose? Lina closed her eyes. Yes. It all made sense. For the honor of the family, Erik was disowned, disavowed—for them, he probably became dead, even if he refused to actually roll over and die . . . Was that why her parents had sent her to the Guild? For training, certainly. Even with the help of Luna and her mother, she still had too much raw talent to control it without proper guidance. She had been surprised—albeit extremely relieved—when they encouraged her to travel. In her mind's eye, she could see Luna ruffling her hair and telling her to go see the world . . . to grow up strong and wise . . .

She had left everything behind and had never even looked back. Like she had told Gourry, it was done and over. Gone. Almost.

"Ryan—"

"Don't say it," he interrupted, a look of panic flitting across his face.

Lina sighed internally. How well they knew each other, even now, even after all this time apart. But even if he knew what she was going to say, she still had to speak the words aloud. "I really did love you—I would've happily spent my life with you . . . but . . . there's no going back." And even if it were possible to go back, too much had happened. She had no desire to live that life anymore.

"I told you not to say it," he replied bitterly, pinching the bridge of his nose. The silence stretched out, a tense and awkward thing between them. "It's him, isn't it?" he finally asked.

There was no need to ask which "him" he meant. "A lot of it is," she admitted. Gourry had become such an enormous part of her life, and even without the dimension of their recent physical intimacy, even if things were still between them as they had been for such a long time, she still would choose him over Ryan. It was brutal, but it was true. Gourry fit who she had become. Ryan . . . she could still read him, but she also knew that he had changed, even as she had. "Not all of it, though. I think . . . we're on . . . different paths, now."

He looked at her without answering for the longest time. "Yeah," he finally replied. "You're . . . still you, I can see it in your eyes, but you're not, too. You're different." He laughed, although it sounded more forced than genuine. "More confident—someone who can look trouble in the face without running. Who woulda thought, huh?"

Lina winced a bit at the memory of the girl she had been. She really had gotten them into such outrageous messes, and he had been the one to bail them out or take the heat more often than not. "You ain't seen nothin' yet," she replied with a mock-feral smile. "Now, shut up and let me work."

"Not everything's changed," Ryan responded, and this time his smile was genuine. "Still the same old bossy Lina."

She bit back the urge to retort that he always had to get the last word in. With a shrug, she turned her attention back to neutralizing beads.

* * *

Gourry struggled to get air back into his lungs. Part of him wondered how he had ended up flat on his belly in a pile of hay. He had a vague recollection of staring at the puddles of moonlight on a floor . . . everything was distant and disconnected, like the memory of a dream. Maybe he was dreaming now. It was harder and harder for him to tell the difference, and while a small part of his mind was very disturbed by that fact, the rest of him found it difficult to care.

Right now, whether it was dream or reality, he had somehow gotten the wind knocked out of him. Long term experience told him that it was just a matter of time, and that panic would not help anything. Still, feeling like a gasping fish out of water was a distinctly unpleasant sensation. It was even worse than the burning pain he had been experiencing lately.

Finally, his lungs obeyed him, and he drew a long shuddering breath.

He flipped over onto his back and stared at the stars. They were dim, overshadowed by the pearly luminescence of the full moon and the ruddy glow of guttering torches scattered around the village square. In their flickering light, the moon seemed to grow and pulse. She looked angry. Gourry found himself cringing involuntarily under her baleful gaze.

A soft breeze gusted around the torches, causing them to dip and flare. And then, apparently bored with the torches, she fluttered over to him, playfully lifting stray strands of his hair so that they tickled his face. The flow of air soughing over his skin felt reassuring, almost as if the breeze was protecting him from the moon. He could almost hear her sigh an affirmative as she puffed softly in his ear.

He could close his eyes against the accusatory glare of the moon, but he could still feel her anger pulsing, just out of reach, even through the reassuring shield of the breeze. He threw his forearm over his eyes, trying to block out the moon, to no avail.

What did she want from him? She radiated disapproval, but also . . . was it a touch of desperation?

The breeze danced over his face, lingering on his parted lips, and then he heard her address the moon. "I don't want to lose him," she said in a voice with a slight petulant edge.

"I've told you how we can fix that," the moon replied in rich voice. She spoke in the tone of one accustomed to wielding authority.

"It's too risky!" the breeze wailed, obviously upset.

Gourry lay in the hay forgotten, as the moon and the breeze argued over . . . what? Their voices pulsed in his ears, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

"Not that risky." The moon pressed her case, sounding smoothly persuasive. Gourry tentatively peeked at her, just barely lowering his forearm. She still pulsed, but she no longer glared at him.

"What about my uncle?" There was just the slightest hint of desperation in the breeze's question. Gourry wondered idly that a gust of moving air could have an uncle. "Maybe—"

"Deremar doesn't _sneeze_ without Erik's permission," the moon interrupted, her voice full of scorn. "And you know it, too."

Deremar . . . Erik . . . the names had a familiar ring to them and filled him with a sense of foreboding far worse than the baleful glare of the moon. He had the sudden and awful nagging sense that he was forgetting something important . . . something crucial . . .

The breeze swirled in agitation, sounding uncannily like the rustle of heavy skirts. There was a loud thunk, followed by a creak, and then the voice of the moon called out, even louder than before, "You promised to help."

With a sigh, the breeze stopped. "I promised him, too," she said quietly.

"All you have to do is tell me where," the moon—who was starting to sound a lot like his mother—continued. "You can even tell him that you tried to stop me . . . and then we'll both have what we want."

"What about Gourry?" He started at hearing his name, and steeled himself, just in case the moon decided to glare at him again, reminded of his presence with that simple question.

"He should sleep for a while, don't you think?" Odd. Now the moon sounded both bitter and amused. She was not too terribly observant though, if she took his hiding behind his arm as a sign that he was asleep. It reminded him of the small child who thought he was hiding from everyone else whenever he closed his eyes.

The breeze had no reply; she just waited in silent expectation.

"I-I don't know how much longer he can hold out . . ." For the first time, the cool confident mask slipped aside, revealing desperation in the moon's broken whisper. "We're running out of time!"

"He's not going to be happy." The breeze rustled once again, sounding just as unhappy as she thought "he" would be, but Gourry had the sense that she was wavering and seriously considering the moon's request. He wondered what it was that the moon wanted so desperately.

"I'll take care of it," the moon announced, her voice confident, once again sounding like the lady of the keep.

"Promise?" The breeze sounded both nervous and hopeful.

"Promise."

The crunch of boot heels on gravel distracted Gourry from the conspiracy hatched between the moon and the breeze. He followed their very audible progress as they moved farther away from him. And then the breeze was whispering in his ear, once more.

"Follow me," she said. "I'll show you the way, but we have to go quick, while she's not looking."

Gourry glanced up, and noticed that a cloud had covered the moon. "Is that your uncle?" he asked.

A silvery peal of laughter was her only response. With sibilant tugs on his hair, she led him unerringly in the direction the booted footsteps had gone. In the distance, he saw a large black shadow, looming ominously and blotting out the stars behind it.

"The Dark Keep," the breeze whispered, sounding both awed and frightened. "The princess awaits you there."

"What must I do?" he asked, feeling very much like the hero in half-remembered childhood tales.

"What else?" the breeze answered in surprise. "Storm the keep, kill the monster, save the princess."

Save the princess. No matter what else happened, no matter the odds, he had to save the princess. Gourry clenched his hands, not even noticing how they shook and refused to completely obey the command he was sending. The breeze blew stronger, billowing his shirt so that he felt like he was wearing a heroic white cape. He puffed his chest with pride, his thoughts full of the tiny princess with the flame hair whom he was pledged to protect and serve. Oblivious to the fact that he was missing sword and armor, and that the billowing white cloth behind him was nothing more than a simple shirt, he fixed his attention on the Dark Keep ahead.

Gourry was storming the castle, and heaven help anyone who got in his way.

* * *

A hiss from Ryan alerted her to the commotion outside the cell, and Lina hurried to finish one last bead before concealing the metal rod in her fist. She heard an unfamiliar feminine voice, one that commanded imperiously. It sounded like someone was trying to get past guards? Lina strained her ears, trying to figure out what was going on.

Before she could put anything coherent together, the door to the cell burst open. Two women stood on the threshold. One was about Lina's height with elaborately coifed curly blonde hair. The other woman stood about a head taller, completely cloaked in an air of regality. Lina recognized them both.

As Lucilla whispered something in Lady Gabriev's ear, she stared at Lina with her eyes filled with loathing. Although she wore a grin of smug self-satisfaction, Lina could not help but notice that she seemed nervous about something. Maybe it was all the jerky glances she kept throwing over her shoulder. It was definitely odd to see someone look nervously behind them, only to turn back and glare daggers. Lady Gabriev turned her ruined face unerringly in Lina's direction as she drew a plain dagger from the folds of her skirt.

"Now, Lina Inverse," Lady Gabriev announced in a voice throbbing with emotion as she advanced unerringly to stand a mere hands breath from where Lina was chained to the wall. "Now, you will pay for your foul crimes against the Gabrievs!"

Lina watched in horror and confusion as Lady Gabriev extended the dagger before her. She only realized that she was in mortal danger as she felt the blade scraping against her ribs.

Her first thrust had missed the mark. Alhough the sudden sharp pain that erupted just beneath her breast hurt like hell, Lina knew she was not seriously injured. It was just a flesh wound—maybe a broken rib at the worst—as the dagger had hit bone rather than sliding through.

Lady Gabriev laughed. "I should slice you to ribbons! Fitting retribution, don't you think?" She ran her hands over Lina's body, her fingers tracing along Lina's breastbone, and then finding the gap between ribs, stopping unerringly over Lina's heart. "Just a thrust right here . . ." she placed the dagger on the spot marked by her fingers and slowly pressed it into Lina's flesh. "You don't deserve a quick death," she hissed in a voice full of hate, "but I'm running out of time."

Lina was dimly aware that several people were yelling. She could feel the blood welling up in the gash along her ribs, running down over her midriff in warm rivulets. Her shock over the sudden attack was heightened by its source. Why was Gourry's mother trying to kill her? It made no sense! And how could she defend herself? Instinctively, Lina tried to cast a wind spell to push Lady Gabriev back without hurting her, but as the familiar feel of intense electrical energy arced through her body, it was matched by the sharp pain of the dagger sliding through flesh and scraping against bone. Her concentration shattered, Lina stared stupidly at the dagger impaled in her flesh, barely even registering that she had somehow pushed Lady Gabriev back—she lay in a heap of heavy skirts..

"Stop!" a man roared. "Back off, Gisella! Now!"

Lady Gabriev drew a small knife from her boot and pulled herself up from the floor gasping. The fingers of her right hand scrabbled over Lina's body, looking for the dagger, while her left hand slashed indiscriminately with the knife, leaving shallow slices on Lina's torso and abdomen. "You promised me her death!" she screeched. "Now I'm going to take it!"

Gourry's mother was trying to kill her. Lina had no idea why, but the woman was nearly crazed with hate. Blood oozed from the multiple gashes Lady Gabriev was inflicting. She had to do something—anything—but it was Gourry's mother . . . Lina stared in horror as questing fingers came closer to the dagger impaled over her heart.

"Gisella, No!"

There was no time left. Lady Gabriev's fingers brushed against the dagger, and her lips curled in a triumphant smile. "You can't stop me now, Erik!" she shouted as her arm tensed up to thrust the dagger into Lina's heart.

This was it. After all the bandits, monsters, crazed copies, and Dark Lords she had faced, she was going to die in some stinking dungeon, pinned to the wall and draped in pink silk. How ignominious.

Time slowed, stretched out. Lina heard the steely rasp of a sword being drawn from its sheath, and the thud of boot heels on the rough cobble-paved floor. She felt Lady Gabriev's hot breath on her flesh, and warm blood—her own—here flowing copiously, there merely oozing. Lady Gabriev's hand closed on the dagger, but before she could plunge it in, there was a cry of fury that caused her to flinch.

Erik pulled Lady Gabriev off of Lina, violently hurling her to the floor. Lady Gabriev rolled, coming to her feet a short distance away, holding the dagger in one hand and the knife in the other. Part of Lina marveled at her tenacity and skill. Even blinded, she still moved with grace and an easy comfortable confidence with the weapons she held.

Suddenly, Lina felt a searing pain in her left arm. Even faster than her eyes could follow, Lady Gabriev had thrown her knife at Lina. It had sliced deeply into muscle before impacting against the wall and clattering to the floor. Erik roared and lunged forward with his weapon—the replica Sword of Light that Gourry had claimed from Ryan. Amazingly Lady Gabriev parried his thrust and countered with a slicing move that left a long shallow gash across Erik's midriff. Erik was a capable enough fighter, but no where near good enough to match Gourry, or his mother apparently.

Almost immediately, she turned and renewed her assault on Lina. Her single-mindedness was astonishing. Erik dashed forward, his sword extended, and pulled Lady Gabriev violently back, once again. But this time, instead of hurling her to the ground, he pulled her onto his sword. There was a wet tearing sound as Lady Gabriev was impaled. Her hands dropped the dagger she was holding and closed convulsively around the blade emerging through the center of her chest.

"No . . ." she said softly, in a voice of frank disbelief. And then hands suddenly nerveless fell limply to her side.

Erik said nothing. Although tears streamed down his face, his attention was solely focused on Lina. She had never liked being the center of his attention. But now, as he stared at her over the shoulder of Lady Gabriev's body, she suppressed a shudder at what she saw in his face. Underneath sadness and regret, Lina could clearly see stark panic as he visually appraised her wounds, seemingly in an attempt to assure himself that she was still breathing. The way he looked at her made her feel . . . less than human. It was if she were a prized possession—a thing to be treasured and protected—rather than a person with her own hopes, desires, and volition. There was an underlying ruthless implacability, in spite of the tears. He was determined to have her on his own terms, regardless of the price to the people around him—regardless of her own inclinations.

At last, the macabre tableau ended as Lady Gabriev collapsed onto the floor of the dungeon, looking like a child's discarded rag doll.

Apparently satisfied that Lina was bloodied, but not broken, Erik shouted for a maid to come tend Lina's wounds. Then he did something very strange. With a sigh, he knelt beside Lady Gabriev's body, bowing his head for a moment. Then he stood up and motioned to Elfred, the infamous steward who had crossed their paths several times, now. Lina had not even seen him come in. "Have someone take her body to Deremar," he said quietly, his voice hitching ever so slightly. "Tell him to make whatever arrangements he thinks appropriate." He paused and turned to look at Lucilla, who had collapsed into a heap in the threshold and was muffling her sobs in her heavy skirts. "As for the Lady Lucilla," he growled with a menacing undertone, "have her escorted to my chambers. She and I are going to have a . . . long talk."

Elfred bowed obsequiously and started shouting orders down the corridor while Erik closed the distance between him and Lucilla in two strides. He grabbed a hank of her hair, forcing her to look him in the eye. "Start working on your story," he said with a feral grin. "I'm rather looking forward to hearing it."

Lucilla bit back her sobs. "You didn't have to kill her," she said just barely louder than a whisper.

"It was your job to keep her under control," Erik savagely bit out. "If I have to clean up after your _mistakes_, I choose my methods." He grabbed her elbow and hauled her up to her feet, pushing her in the direction of one of the guards. "Take her," he barked out as he turned his attention back to Lina.

"What's going on here?" she demanded angrily, as she tried to make sense out of everything that had just happened. Although several of the pieces refused to slot neatly into place, one thing was absolutely clear: she had no idea what she was going to say to Gourry about his mother being murdered . . . again.

"It looks like I'm out of practice," Erik replied with a weak attempt at a self-deprecating grin. "It's been a long time since I've had to protect you, Lina."

Lina's blood started to boil. For this man who was the bane of her childhood, who had assaulted her in the worst way possible, to claim to have protected her was ludicrous! She struck back immediately, in a manner calculated to do maximum damage. "There's only one man who can call himself my protector!" Lina retorted angrily. "And it's not you, Erik!"

"Is that so?" Erik asked in a cold tone. Without breaking eye-contact with Lina, he called out, "Elfred? I have one more task for you."

Lina felt her heart clench up at his next words.

"Kill Gabriev."

* * *

Gourry leaned against the rough-hewn stone wall he was following, trying to catch his breath and figure out where he was. Although he was accustomed to having hazy memories, how he had gone from his mother's room to . . . where ever here was . . . He had a vague impression of listening to two women fight, and someone telling him that Lina was here.

Somehow, he had found himself a weapon. He stared at the short sword he held in his hand. It was more ceremonial than serviceable—the edge was dull and chipped for all that the sword was polished to a bright silver sheen. It was so bright, in fact, that he could have easily used the blade as a mirror. Reflexively, he ran his hand over an accumulation of stubble, wondering when he had last shaved.

With a shrug, he lowered the sword and started to push a lank strand of hair out of his face, but he froze in mid motion to stare at the hair in his hand. Well, that answered the question about the sword. Someone—most probably him—had twisted a long strand of hair into a thin rope and used it as a garrote. He could see the frayed and snapped hairs where desperate hands had clawed at it, attempting to get air, and he had the sudden disconcertingly clear image of himself pushing his knee into the back of a flimsily armored guard while twisting the rope of his hair tighter and tighter . . . Gourry swallowed hard against the sudden urge to vomit.

Before he was consciously aware of what he was doing, he had sawed off the impromptu garrote with his dull blade and hurled the rope of hair far from him. What had possessed him? Maybe he was just going mad.

Being crazy would certainly explain a lot of things, he thought wearily as he slid down along the wall into a sitting position. He would rather be insane than believe that his mother had become hate-crazed and obsessed with wreaking her revenge on Lina.

Lina.

Gourry forced himself to stand up, forced his hand to form into a semblance of his usual grip around the hilt of the short sword, forced himself to stand on his own two feet without leaning on the wall.

The problem with going mad was that he was Lina's protector. And he would hardly be able to keep her safe if he was insane. Of course, he would also have a hard time doing his job properly if he had no clue where she was. Which meant that there was no reason to worry about any possibly troubling mental issues until after he found Lina.

She had to be here somewhere. He had utter confidence in that. The only question was whether he should look high or low.

Instinct said that she would be in the dungeons, and that he should head down. After all, dungeons were usually in dark and damp underground places. They (whoever they were) would want to keep Lina underground also, because she was a powerful sorceress. Gourry remembered her saying something about the earth containing magic, and that was why sorcerers' labs were always underground.

In spite of the fact that searching low had a lot of things going for it, Gourry had a hard time shaking a persistent little voice that told him that he should be headed for the higher floors of the tower. After all, she was the princess. And they always kept the princess locked up in the tower. Gourry pressed the heel of his hand against an eye.

Things would be so much easier if Lina would just show up and tell him which way to go. That was the way things were supposed to be: Lina cooked up the schemes, made the decisions, and he kept her safe.

Gourry fought against the urge to slump against the wall again, and just wait until the two warring urges worked it out between them and stopped shouting at each other inside his skull. They had no right to be so upset, he thought resentfully. He was the one hamstrung by their inability to get their act together. A particularly loud shriek had him wincing, and he could feel the beginnings of a headache, which prompted him to press the heel of his hand against his eye yet again, in a vain attempt to push back the impending pain.

It took him a few moments to realize that the shriek was not in fact coming from inside his head, but instead from outside. He heard the heavy thud of hob-nail boots pounding against stone, and coming distressingly closer.

Gourry looked up in time to come face-to-face with a young man wearing a grease-spattered apron, and holding another one of those shiny short swords the way one might hold a long wooden cooking spoon. They appraised each other for a brief moment. Under normal circumstances, the kid would have been no threat: he looked shocked at seeing someone else in the corridors and ill-at-ease with his weapon.

Before Gourry could decide on a course of action, however, the kid glanced over Gourry's shoulder. His eyes widened and his mouth formed an "o" of surprise. Even in his current condition, Gourry's years of experience prevented him from looking over his shoulder. But when the kid started backing away, and Gourry heard the rushing sound of heavy nail-studded boots coming from behind him, he realized his mistake too late.

There was garbled shouting, and a splitting pain in the back of his head. Someone yelled, "Sir! I've found him!" And then—

* * *

Author's Notes: (holds hands over ears to shield from all the screams). This chapter is much delayed, I know. I was hoping to finish the entire story this summer, really I was, but then my husband got me Guild Wars (one of those MMPORPGs) for my birthday in June . . . and suffice to say it has sucked the majority of my time. (I'm such a sucker for those things . . . ) At any rate, after getting Kaitrin Torrencia to lvl 20, I decided it was time to get back to the story, and here we are! Not so many answers in this chapter, I know, and probably more questions posed! Actually, I can't promise that all questions will be answered. There is a reason and explanation for everything that happens, but Lina and Gourry might not be able to learn those reasons. However, if Filing Sloth has his way, there will be an Erik POV spin off that should provide any answers not forthcoming in the story. Thanks go out again to Filing Sloth for the beta, and to my husband for giving the chapter a final look-over before posting!

Reviewer Response:

Exmes: Well, looks like you got your wish about Gourry's mother dying . . . even if it wasn't with the Dragon Slave . . .

Aniiksa: No, things aren't going too well for Gourry are they . . .

Aslishmagna: So, was it what you thought it was going to be? I find myself frequently surprised by the twists and turns in the story . . . I have an idea where I'm trying to end up, but getting there is so much fun!

Rockfreak2003: I'm thinking that there will be a couple more chapters . . . but I've been saying "two more chapters" for at least the past three, now. But no, not the end yet, more to come!

DQBunny: Hmm. Actually the timeline I'm using, it is possible that Lina could've blown up Gabriev Keep. According to the spin-off novel, "The Thing He Sees Beyond His Sword," Gourry tries to throw away the SoL, gets stopped by a mysterious man, and then encounters Lina shortly thereafter. In the novel, Gourry wants to throw the sword away because there were problems with his family (most people think it's because they were arguing over the sword . . . I've taken a rather different interpretation of "problems"). So at the time that the keep was blown up, Lina was adventuring with Naga, and she was certainly capable of the Dragon Slave at that point!

ZosuruWolfgirl: You guessed right! (Even if it doesn't say in the chapter . . . )

Lina Gabriev: Hmm . . . so many questions! I'm so honored that this fic is inspiring so much thought! I doubt that any of the old crew will show up. I have a hard time "hearing" Zel & Amelia, which makes it hard to write, whereas I "hear" Lina and Gourry loud and clear. Perhaps one day I'll challenge myself . . . As for Gourry at the end, yes it was real, but not the real that he wanted!

Kawaii Rinchan: So far, Erik has resisted all attempts to do him in. Don't worry, though, I've got something special in mind for him. (Actually, I already said exactly what would happen to him, several chapters back). They mention Luna a bit in Try, and she also appears a bit in the manga (one of Lina's musings about Luna in this chap comes straight from one of the manga). As for Gourry's mother . . . it is possible that Lina did it, timeline-wise . . .

Pogo: (waves) It's so great to see you again! Well, yes it was something quite catastrophic that took out the Gabriev family, definitely more than Erik and his band. As for how Erik and Gabriev ended up together . . . if it turns out right, a partial answer should show up in the next chapter! (And no, it wasn't Lady Gabriev at the end of the last chapter . . . I'm sick, but not quite that sick . . .)

Encyser: In the second novel, Lina talks about how she is actually Lina the Pink and explains about the colors (like Halcyform the White, etc). I never read Noble House, but I loved, loved, loved Shogun, mini-series and novel. Well, Gourry's condition is related to his current diet, but not exactly in the way you proposed. (The big clue is the rye bread).

RM: Wow! Thanks for the great review. I'm so glad that people are forming opinions about the characters! I hope this chapter was worth the wait and lived up to expectations . . .

Kimonoprincess: Thanks!

Sailor Saru: Thanks so much for the review! That's exactly what I was trying for: a more mature, darker Slayers that remains faithful to the series, as much as possible in a story of this nature. I think the part of the series that inspired me the most was the last few episodes of Next, that are more on the dark side (and of course are my favorite in the whole series . . . except for the Peacemen ep in Try . . . I can watch Gourry be out of synch with the rest of them "sounding off" over and over!)


	15. Obsession Defined

Pain from more than a half dozen slashes and gashes was momentarily banished by a surge of panic. No. He had to be bluffing. There was no way—_no way_—Erik could possibly think Elfred would be able to take on Gourry Gabriev, much less kill him.

No, she had no doubt that Erik wanted him dead. Ryan's words came back to her . . . Erik was obsessed with _possessing_ her. No matter the price—brother, family, her wishes—all paled to insignificance. Gourry was simply an obstacle to eliminate. The order was voiced in her presence to hurt her. To punish her for daring to contradict him. She saw it clearly in his eyes. He expected her—_wanted her_—to beg.

She had begged once. She had begged _him_ once. It had made him more. More violent . . . more satisfied . . . It had made her less, had not saved her from brutal violation. She had not begged anyone for mercy since that day—save in jest, to weaken her opponent's power over her. Erik may want her to beg, but wanting something and actually getting it were two separate things. Not even Hellmaster, who had literally held Gourry's life between his thumb and forefinger, had heard her beg.

"Sending someone else off to their death?" Lina asked with forced bravado as Elfred strutted out of the cell, hating the quiver in her voice. "I'm surprised he," her eyes flicked rapidly from Erik to Elfred and back, "has the courage after seeing what happened to Garik."

Erik threw her a furious look, which he slowly modulated into a familiar lazy smile that was somehow more threatening. "I'll admit that under normal circumstances, that would likely be the case. These are hardly normal circumstances however, which even you must admit." He gestured to the dungeon surroundings, tacit—and unnecessary—reminder of her mostly helpless state. "I've been tracking your moves for a very long time now, carefully planning for every contingency." He glanced down at the spot where Lady Gabriev had fallen, and something flickered across his face too quickly for her to identify. "I will have you, Lina," he said intently. "One way or another."

Lina stared him down, refusing to give him anything, in spite of the terror that threatened to overwhelm her. Here, right in front of her, was the suppressed nightmare of her childhood given flesh. His very gaze made her feel soiled, a scared child once again, who did not understand quite yet the threat he represented. The temptation to break eye contact burgeoned, given power by memories of helplessness—helpless to stop the violent pounding between her thighs, helpless to stop the raw power coursing through a vessel too small. It would be so easy. All she had to do was close her eyes . . . . No. She was no longer that scared little girl! Over and over, she clung to that thought, repeating it in a never-ending loop like a mantra. And even as she did, she could feel Erik's gaze slip past ragged barriers to penetrate the terrified child screaming in the back of her mind.

Make him stop! Make him stop! If she broke eye-contact, simply closed her eyes, she could reweave tattered and frayed defenses behind a safe impenetrable barrier, right?

Lina fought a battle in her head, unaware of the clenched teeth or the feral growl rumbling in her chest. She was simultaneously suffering from uncontrollable panic and disgust for her weakness. Lina Inverse. Sorceress Extraordinaire. Those who were weak needed to just get out of her way! Let her do her job, because she had the power.

But what was she supposed to do when the sniveling weakling in her way was herself and her own childhood memories?

Receive the gaze. Yes, she was. She had to. There was no choice. If she closed her eyes, he would still look at her.

Return the gaze. Yes, she was. She had to. It was the only defense she had left. Imperfect though it was, at least she controlled the penetration. His eyes stabbing into her inner self was violation, but somehow preferable to allowing his gaze to roam freely over her body swathed in pink silk that revealed more than it concealed.

Reject the gaze.

What?

Reject the gaze.

Reject the gaze?

Yes . . . yes, she could do that. Lina Inverse . . . the sorceress she had become . . . her best defense was a strong offense. The strongest offense. This man who gazed at her . . . he defined her . . . objectified her . . . and she had allowed him. His eyes told her that she was helpless. Reminded her of what had been and what currently was—the helpless girl-child beneath the male body twice her size—the small pink butterfly pinned to the wall.

Reject the gaze. She was not helpless, then or now. Lina very consciously looked at him through the lens of the brutalized child she had been, forcing herself to remember what his gaze insisted she forget: his moment of weakness. It had been there. Between virginity lost before the onset of menarche and unrefined magic bursting free years before it should. After the world had turned to pain, but before it had turned to fire . . . Erik had pulled away. Before he was finished. _Before_ the fire burst forth from her hands. No, she had not been the helpless girl-child he had expected. He had left his mark on her flesh, but she had left hers far more indelibly on his. And now? He may have her pinned to the wall. But he could not touch her. They were at impasse.

Reject the gaze. She did, defining herself instead of accepting his definition. She. Was. Not. Helpless.

Erik's reaction was immediate. Surprise and cold shock replaced a smug self-satisfied expression. Somehow, that simple shift transformed him from nightmare of her childhood to just a man. Outwardly maintaining the cocksure pose that he was in complete control. But underneath . . . rattled . . . and scared . . . in more ways than one. It was his turn to panic, his turn to relive the flames licking into his flesh, his turn to be defined.

Erik broke eye contact first.

Her exultation over winning her first battle against Erik was short-lived. It was almost as if their silent confrontation had drained all her reserve energy. Or maybe it was just an adrenaline boost that had carried her over, and now she was paying the price. Who could say? All she knew was that abused and slashed body was demanding all her attention. Every breath she drew caused at least a couple of the deeper cuts to gape open. Her flesh remembered the cold sharpness of invading steel, even if her mind would much rather forget. It was nearly all she could do to keep herself from sagging against the wall. Displaying weakness was not an option, no matter what it cost her.

As Erik started to turn away, his eyes flicked over her wrists, lingering on wire that should have been hidden behind dull gray beads, but bore only the faintest residues of powder. His eyes widened, and Lina dug deep, seeking strength from internal reservoirs nearly sucked dry, demanding everything because she would not cede any advantage now. An angry buzzing filled her head, as she struggled against that sieve-like barrier that had scooped through her mind and left her diminished.

Everything slowed down as a sudden wave of nausea and dizziness coursed through her. No, not nausea . . . it was lower . . . sharper . . . and scared her far more than the cacophony of pain from assorted cuts and slashes inflicted by a hate-crazed woman. A quick calculation did nothing to ease her discomfort—she had no idea how long it had been since . . . . Heaven help her, but if that pain meant what she thought it did . . . she had one or two days at most before she was completely defenseless. If she hit that time of the month and she was still here . . . . She felt an iron fist clench itself around her heart, making it impossible to breathe except in short quick gasps.

"Damn you, do something!" The words came from very far away, barely heard over the roaring in her ears. Or was it the sound of rattling chains?

A sharp crack. Stinging pain across her cheek, quickly lost in a sea of jangling nerves. A panicked face briefly swam into focus, gone too fast to be recognized. Blackness called her, swallowed her. She eagerly let it take her, seeking surcease from suffering.

* * *

It was dark. He was warm, surrounded by heavy and soft. Maybe this was the way a moth felt in a cocoon—cozy and safe. If it were not for the horrid bitter taste on his tongue and the sharp clenching in his bowels, nothing short of a threat from the Mother of All Creation would have compelled Gourry to move. 

Maybe if he held absolutely still, the pain would go away? Unfortunately, the answer to that particular question was a rather emphatic "no". With a grunt that modulated into a groan, Gourry pushed himself out of the bed and half stumbled, half ran to the curtained-off area he prayed hid a chamber-pot.

It was not pleasant—distinctly unpleasant, in fact. His guts twisted and burned, and at one point he broke into a cold sweat. But after he cleaned himself up, Gourry had to admit that he felt much better than he had in . . . how long had it been?

The sound of a key turning in the door broke a tortured train of thought that was trying to figure out where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. A harried looking woman slipped into the room, quickly closing the door behind her.

"Good," she said briskly as her eyes swept up and down his body, "you're awake."

Rule number one: when in an uncertain tactical situation, gather as much information as possible, while giving away as little as possible. He was not sure why such a thought would occur to him, except that he had could not tell if he was in the presence of the enemy or not. The woman looked familiar, although he could not place her exactly. She certainly did not seem that threatening, but then again, she was trying to hide the fact that she was locking them in.

"How do you feel?" she asked, timing her words to cover the sound of a heavy bolt sliding into place. He had to admit, she was pretty good.

With a noncommittal shrug, he went on the offensive. "Why did you lock me in here?"

"You noticed!" She seemed pleased for some reason. Was she testing him? "You must be feeling better, then." With a smooth underhanded cast, she tossed something in his direction. As Gourry snagged it out of the air, he noticed that his reactions were dulled and slow and his grip was very weak. "Much better," she nodded approvingly.

Gourry grimaced.

"That's the only key to this room, by the way," she said, nodding towards his still-clenched hand as she seated herself on a low footstool across from him. "So. Gourry Gabriev. Wanted for the murder of my obviously not-dead daughter Lucilla. Companion and protector—or enslaved captive, depending on who you believe—of the infamous sorceress, the Dra-Mata Lina Inverse. Beloved and long-lost son of the recent Lady Gisella."

A chill ran up and down his spine. It felt as if someone had just read off a combination of a wanted poster and an epitaph. Her litany indicated that she was well-acquainted with his recent past, even if it gave him no clear indication over whether she fell into the "friend" or "foe" category. There was only one part of her recitation that made no sense. "Gisella?" he asked.

She nodded gravely. "I'm sorry to be the bearer of sad tidings, but I'm afraid . . ." she broke off and bit her lip, obviously looking for the right way to phrase her bad news. "There was an incident . . ."

Gourry felt a sudden surge of panic, as vague and incoherent thoughts of plots and conspiracies hatched in the dark of night flitted by, too fast to be pinned down. "Lina?" he asked, full of foreboding.

"No, she'll be fine," she said dismissively with a wave of one hand. "But Gisella . . ." she shook her head, her eyes focused on the floor. "I'm really sorry."

Gourry shook his head along with her, feeling like he was missing some crucial piece of information. "Who's Gisella?"

Her gaze snapped up to focus on him. "Gisella Gabriev," she said in obvious shock. "Your mother."

The world must have lurched sideways without him noticing. Why else would he feel like he had slipped into some sort of alternate reality. Of course he knew his parents' names, what kind of idiot did this woman take him for? He knew he had a reputation for cluelessness, and granted he had only the vaguest of ideas about what had been going on over the past few days, but this was just plain insulting. "My mother's name," he said slowly and deliberately, "is Lisielle. I have no idea who this 'Gisella' is supposed to be."

* * *

Once, in the middle of a heated battle, Lina had saved her rival for Gourry's affections, pushing Sylphiel out of the path of Copy Rezo's spell and taking the hit herself. She should have died from that encounter. She nearly had. But that same rival had taken her to safety and cast Resurrection on her. In spite of its name, the spell could not bring back someone who had actually died. It was more in the nature of a high-powered Recovery. However, in the hands of a skilled practitioner of white magic, it could save someone who lay at death's door, as Lina knew she had. Even in her nearly comatose state, Lina had been aware of the magic Sylphiel worked. It was like . . . oh, it was hard to describe. Very different from a Recovery, where you could actually feel injured flesh knit itself back together. She had felt . . . infused . . . or maybe suffused . . . with positive energy from everything surrounding her. There had been a strong sense of floating, but at the same time, she felt utterly supported. Maybe it was a bit like being in the womb. Life was pumped into her, while she floated in total warmth and comfort. Safe. Secure. 

Lina knew that she was still hanging on Erik's wall, pinned for display. Her arms ached in their sockets, and any slack that had developed through her efforts with the beads was noticeably gone. She could feel someone roughly—and rather clumsily—washing and binding her wounds. The sound of a cloth swirled in water, followed by spray of cool droplets splashing onto her skin as the cloth was carelessly wrung out. A sharp burning sensation as fragile scabs were swept away by rough cloth and a heavy hand and the tickle of tiny cool rivulets of water running across her skin. At the same time, the memory of Sylphiel casting Resurrection was superimposed. It was almost like seeing two scenes mashed together, one from the past, one from the now.

White magic had never been her forte. She was truly lucky that Sylphiel had been there that time, and that she had been willing to save Lina. The woman was honestly the closest thing to a saint Lina had ever encountered in her life: a truly gentle soul who was honest with herself and held no grudges. She was also a very gifted sorceress, probably just as strong as Lina herself. The main difference was that Sylphiel used her magic for healing and defense, whereas Lina was the girl who made things go "boom." She had certainly picked up on a couple white magic spells—mainly Recovery and . . .

Flow Break.

Lina's eyes flew open. The scene that greeted her was almost enough to break her current train of thought. It was certainly more than enough to banish the tactile memory of Sylphiel's Resurrection. Under the close supervision of both Erik and Ryan, Lucilla was clumsily attending to her wounds. The expression on her face made her look like someone who was unsuccessfully trying to hide the fact that she smelled something rotting, but that was nothing compared to the waves of impotent fury rolling off her body. Ryan strained against his chains, issuing a steady stream of instructions, most of which Lucilla ignored. Erik leaned casually against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest while he followed Lucilla's every move, paying very close attention whenever she touched Lina, but his gaze flicked over to Ryan every once and a while. Her belly clenched when she realized that he was enjoying every aspect of the spectacle immensely—Ryan's frustration, Lucilla's hatred, her passivity. It was almost as if he was putting on his own personal perverted little show.

She was assigned the role of injured and fragile victim. Lucilla was the jealous "other woman," she supposed, and Ryan? A wave of nausea gripped her, and she would have vomited if there had been anything in her stomach to bring up. With startling clarity, she saw Erik's purpose in having Ryan chained up in here. Ryan was supposed to play the role of over-protective lover, forced to watch, impotent, as his prospective mate was abused, just beyond his reach. Erik wanted to punish Ryan, to make him suffer. Because Ryan had been the chosen heir, while the eldest son had been passed over.

Ryan growled something about changing the water. Lucilla paused, threw a daggered glance at Ryan, and then slowly and deliberately dipped her cloth into the water once again before scrubbing aggressively at crusted blood on Lina's upper thigh. Lina hissed involuntarily, and Lucilla glanced up, unleashed a vicious smile, and pressed in even harder, squeezing the cloth as she scoured dried blood away. Lina suppressed a wince as the dull throb of residual pain blended with a sharp burning sensation as the water mixed with her blood. She swallowed hard against the dry feeling coating her throat, wondering when she last had anything to drink.

"Get your hands off me," Lina rasped, glaring down at Lucilla. She burned everywhere that woman touched her.

Lucilla hesitated before looking to Erik for guidance. With a thrust of his chin, Erik indicated that she should continue her ministrations. Lucilla returned to her task, her face flushed with an odd mixture of eagerness and revulsion. As she dipped her cloth in the bowl by her knees, she glanced up at Lina.

Lucilla wanted her dead.

Lina knew the girl hated her and had tried to kill her. Somehow, those bungled attempts had not been enough to make her consider Lucilla a serious threat. The look in her eyes made Lina wonder if she might want to revise her position immediately. Lina flicked a glance at Erik.

He knew. He knew that Lucilla wanted her dead. He knew, and forcing her to tend Lina's wounds was . . . yes, it was punishment for her role in Lady Gabriev's attack. He knew, but like Lina, he did not quite take the threat seriously. He thought he could control Lucilla. Lina swallowed hard against the dry feeling in her throat, and wondered why Lucilla's expression was enough to make her heart start beating erratically, to make her feel like she could not quite get enough air into her lungs.

"Get your hands off me," Lina repeated, this time following up with enough will to make sparks arc across her body—her only remaining defense. There were far more sparks than she expected, accompanied by a great deal more pain. Lucilla snatched her hand back, looking—almost reflexively—to Erik for guidance. The thrust of his chin mimicked his earlier gesture, but his eyes very clearly indicated that he had hoped Lina would fight back, and he expected Lucilla to complete her task, regardless of Lina's resistance. Punishment.

With a whimper and a snarl, Lucilla turned back to Lina, who blocked each of her attempts, although it cost her greatly. A quick glance up at her wrists had confirmed that fresh beaded wire looped around her wrist. No wonder it hurt more. Lina's lips formed a rictus as she struggled with the body that betrayed her—it was more than the pain, it was the dizziness, the difficulty breathing, the cold sweat that mingled with blood and tainted water. She was running out of time. However, before she could play her own role in ending this farce Erik was forcing them through, she needed to figure out the key variation. Somehow, she had to make Flow Break, a spell designed to negate the effects of other spells by restoring magical channels thus allowing the energy to flow along its natural path, to negate instead the magical energy in the beads and circlet that had so effectively chained her. Defending herself against Lucilla provided the perfect excuse to experiment, but the effort was costing her . . . she coughed weakly, tasting the iron tang of blood in the back of her throat.

The sound of rattling chains . . . a male voice, tinged with desperation, pleading and haranguing . . . distractions to be ignored. She had to focus . . . she was so close to the key . . .

"You just want an excuse to touch her." The oily quality of Erik's voice, coupled with the fiercely possessive tone and the aggressive accusation shattered Lina's concentration. She could only stare at the tableau before her.

Ryan turned white with fury, straining against his chains, which creaked and popped in protest against the sudden stress. "I don't know exactly what kind of sick game you're playing, Erik," he bit out from between clenched teeth, "but I refuse to play along any longer!"

"Refuse?" Erik echoed incredulously. "You're in way too deep at this point to even think about backing out." His eyes bored into Ryan's. "You know the consequence—"

Before he could finish, the door to the dungeon burst open.

"Sir! Sir! Look what I've got!" A serving boy rushed in, brandishing a long rope-like object.

Lina stared at it for several seconds before her brain acknowledged what her eyes were seeing.

It was a blood-stained hank of Gourry's hair.

* * *

Gourry stared down at the ruined face of the woman called Gisella Gabriev. She was dressed in a rich satin dress the exact shade of a spring sky, and cloaked in velvet the deep hue of twilight. Blue for a Gabriev, as was proper. She lay on an oblong slab of black granite. Someone had folded her arms over her breast, and her hands were closed around the hilt of a long dagger—one of the few non-ceremonial weapons he had seen in this keep—although he noted that it was not the main-gauche mate to the Sword of Light. The crest on the hilt shared some features with the Gabriev family device, but it was nothing he recognized. Save for the torn out eyes and the deep scarring, she was the very image of his mother. Only the name did not fit. 

No, that was not completely accurate. The woman who wore Lisielle Gabriev's ruined face was both like and unlike the mother he remembered. Her single-minded insistence that Lina had destroyed their home and family . . . the Lady of Gabriev keep had always insisted that a lord must weigh both sides of a story carefully before giving judgment. On the other hand, her voice, her mannerisms, even memories from the time before he had been sent away for training . . . Gourry pressed the heel of one hand against an eye. Like and unlike. Mother and stranger. Beyond his reach—again—forever.

"Well?"

Gourry shook his head and looked at the woman at his side. She seemed to know him, but he still knew next to nothing about her. "Who are you?" he asked bluntly. "Why are you helping me?"

"I have my reasons," she replied after a considerable pause. "And I'm not helping you. Not exactly, at any rate."

"Then why bring me here?" Gourry gestured at the small mourning room. It was at the top of one of the towers in Deremar's keep, very similar to the room where he and Lina had first performed their hired guard duty—a very boring evening that had ended with quite an unexpected twist. The main difference between that room and this was that the décor here was muted, rather than garish. Suddenly, he peered closely at his companion, as something abruptly clicked. "You're Lucilla's mother, aren't you?" he accused.

She inclined her head slightly, confirming his guess. "You really are a bit dense, aren't you," she asked in an amused tone. "Didn't I say as much, earlier?"

Nothing was making any sense. Mother who was not mother lay dead. He still had not found Lina . . . in fact . . . a horrible suspicion dawned on him. What if this was just a distraction? Something to keep him off-balance (if so, it was definitely working) and prevent him from finding Lina. By her own admission, Lucilla's mother was not helping him. They were leading him around by the nose, and even worse, he was letting them. Following along willingly, even.

Sweet fire caressed his nerve endings as rare anger budded and bloomed, matured into blood lust aimed at those who would harm Lina—or keep him from her.

Gourry was no stranger to blood lust. It had been directed at him more times than he could count. His ability to recognize blood lust had kept him alive through conflict after conflict. It was a cold killing instinct. An overpowering desire to see blood spilled by one's own hand. Many depended on that cold fire, honed it, turned it into a tool, necessary to perform the kill. Gourry had no need to nurture the seeds of blood lust to be an efficient warrior. In most cases, he crossed swords with others as a test of his own skill. Few could even come close to competing. Fewer still walked away unscathed. While he normally had no desire to kill, he also accepted that it was a natural risk when one crossed blades with one of greater skill. Since he tended to wield the superior skill, he had killed.

But now . . .

"Where is she," he asked in a very tight controlled voice.

"Lucilla?" her mother asked with surprise as she moved ever so slightly away from him, aware on some level of the change that had occurred in him.

"No," Gourry continued in that same tight voice—if he let go of even a bit of control, he would probably end up painting the walls with the blood of this woman who was keeping him from Lina. He stepped towards her, even as she tried to retreat, speaking slowly and distinctly. "Where. Is. Lina."

Her mouth formed a silent "O" as she realized her error. By then, she had backed herself up against the wall, and Gourry towered over her. "The girl . . . Lina . . . she's . . ." She swallowed hard under his implacable glare. "Erik has her."

"Where?" Gourry repeated.

"In the dungeon, somewhere," she whispered. "I don't know where exactly."

The dungeon. Somewhere in the dungeon. Which meant down. Gourry made a quick tactical decision. Before Lucilla's mother could evade him, he grabbed her arm and turned her around in front of him, twisting her arm up behind her back. His grip was only a shadow of his former strength, but even so, it was sufficient to keep her immobilized, even though she tried to struggle and break free. "Now," he started, but broke off when the door to the room cracked open and the page who had been standing guard slipped in.

"Mi'lady—" the boy's words modulated quickly into an inarticulate cry of rage, and his hand went quickly to the ceremonial dagger at his hip when he recognized the situation. Gourry had to give the kid credit. He was certainly quick on his feet.

"Drop it," he commanded in a low growl. "Drop it, or I break her arm." He pulled up on her arm, exerting just enough force to back up his threat, but not enough to incapacitate her. He felt her sudden indrawn breath more than he heard it, but the resulting flicker in the boy's eyes warned him to caution. For all his lack of years, this young boy had a great deal of potential—he already carried himself with a feline grace. The last thing he needed at this point was an alarm.

"Do it, Jeral." Lucilla's mother spoke no louder than a whisper, but it was obvious that the boy had heard. He hesitated a moment, and then his dagger clattered to the floor.

Gourry nodded approvingly and eased up slightly on his hostage's arm. "Close the door—slowly and quietly," he ordered.

Jeral glared at him and spat on the floor before complying. "Forgive me, mi'lady," he said tightly, his attention focused on Gourry.

"It's okay, Jeral," she replied weakly. "What did you need to tell me?"

While the boy hesitated, Gourry considered his options. One hostage was probably more than he could handle at this point, which meant that he had to figure out which of them he wanted to keep, and what he should do with the other one. Tactically speaking, the woman was probably a better choice. If nothing else, she made a better shield—

"Mi'lady," the boy finally announced. "Linara told me that Erik's found out that _he's_ here." Jeral scowled in Gourry's direction. "He's ordered all the servants to scour the keep for him. The first one to find him has been offered . . ." He trailed off and a rosy blush spread across his face.

"Go ahead," Lucilla's mother urged, sounding resigned.

Jeral took a deep breath. "The first one to find him has been offered the company of the Lady Lucilla for an evening." His blush deepened into a bright red.

Lucilla's mother swore softly under her breath. "Of course, every man in the keep capable of getting it up—and probably a few that aren't . . ." She sighed in disgust, and Jeral's flush intensified to spread down his neck. "That damned slut of a girl!"

"This doesn't change anything," Gourry growled. Nothing was going to distract him this time. Not even if his mother's corpse got up to block his way. He was going to find Lina and get the both of them the hell away from this crazy place.

"You idiot! Don't you understand?" Lucilla's mother craned her neck around to turn her glare on him. "They'll _all_ be looking for you, now! And now that Gisella's dead, there's nothing to stop Erik from killing you!"

"And why," Gourry asked slowly, "would anyone, aside from you and your page," he glanced at Jeral, "want to kill me?" Although he sensed that in spite of her current position, she had no desire to see him dead. She was right. He had no clue what was going on, beyond understanding that they were keeping him from finding Lina.

"The same reason he killed Gisella," Lucilla's mother said simply. "You stand between him and Lina Inverse."

* * *

After tossing Gourry's hair in her face, Erik stormed out of the cell, shouting all kinds of orders. As soon as he was gone, Lucilla slowly backed away from Lina, giving her a cool appraising look. There was something disconcerting about the way she studied Lina's eyes, the pulse flickering erratically in her throat, the way her eyes lingered on Lina's breasts before moving lower. Lina let her see what she wanted to see: a wasted body, weak from abuse and injury. Let her think she had the upper hand. She just needed a little more time . . . The last variation had been so close . . . she had felt the momentary shift before the annoying buzzing had clamped down again. Just a little more time . . . but time was running out. In more ways than one. 

Lucilla finished her examination, obviously pleased with whatever she saw.

"You poisoned the water, didn't you," Lina said quietly, glancing down at the bowl of herb water on the floor.

A slow, cruel smile was Lucilla's only response. Both of them ignored Ryan's outcry.

Lina wished she could take a deep breath, but all she could manage were quick shallow pants. But there was still time. As long as she drew breath, there was still time. Just a nudge here, a tug there . . . closer to what she needed, but not quite . . . just a little bit more force . . . if her body could just channel a bit more strength . . .

Lucilla watched her coldly, appraising the course of the poison. "Let's see you get out of this one, you little witch."

Lina bared her teeth and snarled. Gathered her strength for another attempt.

Perhaps Lucilla interpreted that snarl as weakness. Perhaps as a challenge. With calculated and leisurely steps, she sauntered close to Lina, leaned close to her ear, and whispered, "By the way, I've had your man."

Rage flooded through Lina as Lucilla danced back, overtly pleased at the reaction her words had provoked. Lucilla simpered, stretching and arching her back in a calculatedly sensuous way. Out of the corner of her eye, Lina could see Ryan shifting uncomfortably. "He's quite the skilled and conscientious lover, isn't he?" She smiled, as she coiled a tendril of hair around her little finger. It was clear that she was enjoying herself immensely. "I know!" She tapped a finger in mock-thoughtfulness against her cheek, as she glanced over at Ryan. "I'll show you what we did together." She sauntered over to Ryan, who eyed her warily, edging away from her. "Think of it as my gift to you," she said over her shoulder while she reached out to caress Ryan's cheek. "The last gift you'll ever receive." She laughed wickedly.

Lina did not hear that last wicked laugh. She did not hear Ryan's protests as Lucilla reeled in chains that had previously been slack, nor did she hear those protests modulate into whimpers punctuated by moans. All she knew was the rage, and the delicious fact that it gave her that _more_ she needed. Like a key turning in a lock, she heard an audible click and instantly she felt the intangible barrier inside her mind disappear. Lina laughed in exultation and immediately followed up with a flare arrow, causing the beaded wire around her arms and legs to crackle with electricity before bursting asunder. As she fell unceremoniously to the floor, the iron circlet that had buzzed so unpleasantly around her head disintegrated into fine grayish-white powder. She felt a giddy exultation surging through her, and dipped deep into her internal reservoirs to cast the spell that instantly purged the poisons from her blood. As she slowly stood, testing legs that had not born her weight for longer than she cared to remember, she felt the magic thrumming through her veins, begging to be used after being denied so long.

The roaring in her ears faded as she turned to face her quarry. In the moments Lina had needed to free herself, Lucilla had reduced the slack in Ryan's chains, so that he was stretched out, spread-eagle, along the wall, just as she had been moments before. Lucilla had also stripped Ryan of most of his clothes. Both had heard her triumphant laugh. Lucilla stared at her in horror—Lina was not sure if she was aware that her hand still gripped Ryan. Ryan, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to vomit. His face was a gut-twisting mixture of humiliation and horror, and he was biting his lip so hard, a thin trickle of blood ran down his chin.

White-hot rage transformed into cold fury. Lucilla was no longer an inconvenience. She could no longer consider her a bumbling fool. She was a woman so obsessed with her own agenda that she did not care how many innocent bystanders were harmed by her schemes. What would have happened to the villagers provoked into a mob to lynch them if she and Gourry had unleashed their full strength? And now, she was playing with Ryan, using him as a tool to hurt her, even though Lucilla had been convinced that Lina was close to death. Just for her own perverted and sadistic enjoyment.

Lina took a step towards Lucilla, intending slice through the other woman's arms to break her hold on Ryan. Lucilla saved her the trouble by scrabbling away from Ryan. She threw a longing glance at the door to the cell and then began to bolt for perceived safety.

She would never make it. Lina smiled sweetly at her and let the magic flow. "_Wind which blows across eternity, gather in my hands and become my strength!_"

Dawning comprehension spread slowly across Lucilla's face, followed by cold panic and the knowledge that it was too late, even as her hands reached out to pull the door open.

Without changing her expression, Lina spoke the words sealing Lucilla's fate. "Flam Gush."

The spell instantly tore through Lucilla as if she were nothing more than a wisp of smoke before proceeding to demolish the door of the cell and the wall in the corridor behind it. "Hmm," she muttered under her breath as she peered through the holes that had suddenly appeared in several walls. "Guess I overdid a bit." She resisted the urge to collapse into a heap on the stone cold dungeon floor. Without the thrum of excess magic singing in her blood, her body wasted no time in reminding her of all the abuse it had recently taken. Her head throbbed in concert with several gashes, and limbs protested abrupt movement after so much inactivity. She felt like she could sleep for a month, and then eat for another month. Later. Right now, there were more important things.

Without looking at Ryan, Lina cast the spell that released his shackles, and pointedly turned her back to give him—and herself—privacy. She dimly heard the rustle of cloth behind her that indicated Ryan was questing for decency, but she was focused more on fighting a losing battle against the cough that threatened to tear through her. She ended up on her hands and knees, hacking weakly. When it passed, she could taste the iron tang of blood in the back of her throat, saw the dark stain on her hand when she wiped her mouth. No time to stop. She struggled to turn the bedraggled, torn, and blood-spattered pink silk into something approaching a modest garment without turning herself into some macabre mummy.

Finally satisfied, she turned to face him. There were so many questions that she wanted to ask, but now was not the time. Now, all hell was on the verge of breaking loose. It was only a matter of moments before someone came to investigate the explosion, and she would much prefer to be elsewhere before then.

"You're going after him, again, aren't you." It was not a question.

Lina turned to face Ryan. Although there was absolutely no emotion in his tone, fiery determination burned in his eyes. She knew it mirrored the expression in her own. "You should get out of here."

"Yeah," he nodded curtly. "Yeah. I will."

She resisted the urge to swear under her breath as he slipped out of the dungeon and into the dark corridors beyond. She wished Ryan luck, but first she had to worry about herself.

* * *

The faint sound of an explosion caught his attention, and for the first time in days, he felt a flicker of hope. "Did you hear that?" he asked Lucilla's mother. She had told him her name, but it was just easier to keep thinking of her as "Lucilla's mother." 

Monara cocked her head. "Hear what?"

"Never mind," he said and turned his attention back to the leather strap into which he was carefully punching a hole. Apparently he had lost a great deal of weight since the last time he had worn his armor. Tightening the straps was not exactly ideal, as it changed the fit of the armor, but it was certainly better than nothing. Just one more hole, and he would be done. He was relieved to finally have his clothes and armor back, instead of running around in a long white shirt all the time.

He was not sure if Lina would approve of him siding with his hostages, but then again, she was not really the hostage-taking type. Anyways, she jumped sides so quickly, it was hard to know who was enemy and who was friend. Right now, Lucilla's mother and her page were on his side, at least, even if he could not place them firmly in "friend" category. In return for his clothes, armor, and sword, he stopped trying to twist her arm off. And in return for guiding him to the dungeons, he was supposed to "deal" with Erik. Although he was fuzzy on the details, it seemed that Erik was the one running the show, but Lucilla's mother thought she should be the one in charge behind the scenes. It was a classic power-struggle? What more did he need to understand?

"Just hurry it up," she urged, looking over his shoulder. "They could find us any moment."

Easier said than done. If the hole was not exactly center, the straps would not buckle properly. Under normal circumstances, it would not have taken him much time at all to punch new holes, but given the fact that he was working with jury-rigged tools—namely a largely ceremonial poniard—and he only had the full use of three of his fingers on his right hand . . . . He had no clear understanding how he had gotten the dry rot in both his hands. Ideally, both pinkies should come off as soon as possible, and maybe the tips of his ring fingers as well. If he were lucky, he would be able to keep the hands. However, now was clearly not the right time to be performing amputations. It was also not the time for regrets. A swordsman without the full use of his hands . . . Gourry shook his head forcefully. Later.

"There," he murmured, finally forcing the poniard through the thick leather strap. He motioned to the page, Jeral, who helped him buckle his armor into place. It still did not fit properly, but this was probably as good as it was going to get. Gourry sighed, as he tried to settle it into a better position. Under normal circumstances, the armor fit very much like a second skin. At the moment, however, it gaped distressingly at some points, while jabbing uncomfortably into him at others.

Jeral handed him his sword, hilt first. A quick warm-up exercised confirmed a few of his greatest concerns while allaying a few others. His grip was decidedly off. Anyone with any skill whatsoever should be able to recognize it and disarm him. Muscles protested when he settled into his preferred stance, a mute testimony to the toll of inactivity and weakness. At the same time, his body generally responded the way it was supposed to, and although his movements were definitely slower, they were not quite a sluggish as he had feared.

"He moves just like she did, doesn't he, mi'lady?" Jeral asked in obvious awe.

Monara nodded curtly. "He'll do, I think." She tilted her head to the side, considering. "Are you ready?"

Gourry wondered if he could trust Lucilla's mother. Probably not. Although she had fulfilled her end of the bargain so far, providing him with his things, he had no doubt that she would turn on him if she thought it would give her an advantage. He doubted that she would take him directly to Lina—there was sure to be a dramatic side-stop that included Erik. He had heard snatches of the instructions she whispered to her page while she thought he was distracted with his armor.

The key to everything seemed to be Erik. He was the one who ruled from behind the scenes, with the help of Lucilla. He was the one who had been closest to Gisella, in spite of the fact that she was Deremar's wife in name, even if she chose not to spend her nights in his bed.

It suited him quite fine that his path would cross Erik's sooner, rather than later. Never mind the power struggle between Lucilla's mother and Erik. Never mind the claim that Gisella had died at Erik's hand. Erik was the one. In all the time that Gourry had known Lina, he had never seen her look upon anyone with haunted fear in her eyes, but he still remembered the edge of panic in her voice when she snarled Erik's name. He remembered the terrified little girl lurking behind Lina's eyes as she insisted that he truss her up and hand her over to Erik—all in the name of saving a woman who later betrayed them.

It was time to end this. That faint explosion probably meant that Lina was on the move. "Yeah, I'm ready." As ready as he could be, under the circumstances.

Lucilla's mother and her page served as the vanguard while he lurked behind. Their job was to misdirect anyone who intersected them, looking for Erik's promised reward. Gourry thought he could probably handle a confrontation with Erik, but not if he had to fight his way through the entire keep before doing so. They did their job well enough, sending people off in random directions while Gourry clung to the shadows. It certainly helped that he sensed the approach of others well before either Lucilla's mother or her page. All his senses were attuned to his surroundings. Smoky torches guttered, casting dancing shadows across the masonry walls. Although circuitous, their path took them deeper into the earth. The air gradually took on the musty smell of damp and mold, tinged with decomposing refuse.

As they continued their descent, however, the smell of rank decay was overlaid with something different. It was . . . dust. Centuries old dust that swirled through the air, accompanied by the peculiar odor of recently crushed rock mixing with the damp . . . and ozone. It was both hard to describe and very familiar to any who traveled in the company of Lina Inverse, Sorceress Extraordinaire. The faint shadow of a grin passed over his face. Lina was here, somewhere. He just had to find her.

The thought was interrupted by the sound of a voice. How often had he heard that voice in his dreams? It was all a part of the nightmare. The voice that hissed in his ear, while the owner's eyes greedily devoured Lina. "I want Lina Inverse," he had said. Did he get what he wanted? Gourry shook his head. That did not matter. What mattered was that when he next saw Lina, he would shake the blood of Erik off his sword—payment and promise. Payment for failing to protect her, and promise to never fail again.

Ignoring the warning looks from Lucilla's mother, Gourry strode forward, into the midst of the destruction that proclaimed to the world that Lina Inverse had been there. The corridor had a new intersection that started from a small dungeon chamber, blazed through thick masonry walls, several small rooms, assorted passageways, and went on beyond visible sight. Some might think it silly, but standing in the midst of Lina-induced destruction made Gourry feel almost normal. This is how things were supposed to be: the two of them plowing through obstacles to obtain the goal.

"Looking for me?" Gourry asked innocently as he stepped into Erik's line of sight.

Erik paused in the act of surveying Lina's handiwork. "Yes, I suppose you could say that," he drawled while he grinned with pure malice. It was a smile of a man who wanted to look like he held all the aces, but was just starting to admit to himself that maybe—just maybe—the situation was moving beyond his control. With a languid gesture at odds with his crisp tone, he issued orders to the rabble of men surrounding him. "I want him dead."

Assorted rabble moved like obedient dogs in an attempt to surround Gourry. It took a mere glance to assess them. Most of them were equipped with the largely ceremonial gear that seemed standard issue, and although they held their weapons with what they thought was confidence, there was nothing in stance or grip that bespoke of skill. With a single glance from Gourry, their confidence abruptly evaporated, and they started to give each other sideways glances. No one wanted to be the first to try to flank Gourry, but none wanted to look the coward, either. Gourry wore an expression that said very clearly, "I have nothing against you personally, see? I'm trying to get to that fella over there. But if you choose to get in my way, I'll have to go through you, see? And while I guess it might prick my conscience a bit, I guarantee that it will hurt you _a lot_ more."

They sort of oozed toward Gourry. At a growl from Erik, a few of the braver souls standing at the front of the mob tried to mount a concerted assault. His reflexes may be duller than he liked, but he was still fast enough to deal with them. Within heartbeats, those who had made the attempt lay in crumpled heaps on the floor. Some moaned, some screamed, and some were _very_ silent. All were incapacitated. The less brave hesitated for a few more heartbeats, and then almost as one, they scattered through the assorted passageways—both the original and the newly created—scurrying into the darkness.

With calculatedly casual movements, Gourry crouched down and wiped his sword clean on the shirt of one the downed attackers. As he did so, he assessed himself and studied his opponent. Muscles twinged and protested, but they obeyed. Slower than he was used to, but he could still move. Not a single one had broken through his guard. Erik was studying him as well, his face a mask of indifference, but his eyes told a different story. He was surprised at Gourry's speed—that much was clear. His eyes also lingered on Gourry's hands, noting the grip of his fingers—but not all of them—on the hilt.

His opponent was largely an unknown. Erik had avoided direct confrontation, preferring subterfuge and sending others to do his dirty work. Skilled enough to wield a blade—supposedly skilled enough to kill Gisella, who herself was also an unknown. He had obviously had enough training to make him automatically study Gourry's grip—and enough skill to note the weakness. Gourry slowly stood and raised his sword in a salute before settling into a ready stance, awaiting Erik's attack.

The first thrust came before Erik even drew his sword. "So, the protector rides in to rescue the princess?" he asked as he continued to assess Gourry. "But considering that you handed her over to me in the first place, do you really think you still qualify as Lina's protector?"

Never mind that he had asked himself as much. Let the words roll past, so much meaningless sound. Several had tried the mind-games with him, but Gourry had never been inclined to play.

Erik bared his teeth. "You are nothing, don't you understand? Nothing. Lina is mine. She's always been mine. She will always _be_ mine. And after I cut out your heart and hand it to her on a platter, she'll understand that, too." He punctuated his last statement by drawing his sword—a full sword, and not the main gauche, Gourry noted—and darting in quickly, aiming to slip underneath Gourry's guard.

Reflexively, Gourry blocked, and hissed at the way his own sword wobbled in his grip. A cold anger spread through him as Erik's last words echoed in his mind, producing the opposite effect than what Erik had hoped to achieve. "It was you, wasn't it?" he growled as the pieces suddenly fell into place. He had suspected that Lina and Ryan had been lovers, but the way they circled around each other just did not add up. And although Lina had not technically been a virgin their first time, in all other ways she had certainly acted like one. No, the one who had taken Lina's virginity had not done so gently, nor he suspected, with her consent. The cold anger threatened to transform into fury—and that was bad. A swordsman who gave into rage was very quickly a dead man. And so he refused to think the word that hovered at the edge of his awareness, and instead focused on the cold anger and let it modify plans made a lifetime ago, when he had held Lina and imagined facing his unknown rival.

Gourry stepped into the dance, confidently taking the lead. There was only one possible outcome now. He would accept no other.

Flash of steel. Whirl. Duck. Lunge. Parry.

Within moments, the only sound in the room was the quick drawing of breath and the hiss and clang of steel on steel. Erik was good. It was clear that he had been trained by a master. Blood trickled down Gourry's arms and over his hands, seeping between his fingers and the hilt of the sword and fouling his already weak grip. It was a sound strategy, to take advantage of an opponent's weakness. Oh yes, Erik was good. But he was not good enough. Although Gourry had not yet drawn blood, he had not been trying to, either. He was still testing his opponent, assessing his reach, gauging his reaction speed, the strength of his blows. Erik was just skilled enough to recognize what Gourry was doing, but not quite skilled enough to mask his abilities, and both of them knew it.

Once he had finished sizing up his opponent, Gourry shifted to offense. He currently had the edge, but he knew he would not hold it for long. Muscles remembered how to move, even after a long hiatus, but stamina was something completely different. He had to end this fast.

Flash of steel. Whirl. Slice. Block. Block. Block.

New pattern. Jab-slice. Block. Block.

Somehow, Erik had managed to block each of his attacks, and with each new pattern, Erik's confidence grew, while Gourry had to dig deeper for the strength to keep his sword arm moving. He tried shifting the pattern yet again, using a style that had been used only by people currently dead—it was one of the first moves he had learned when he was old enough to hold a sword, and one that had never failed to catch an opponent by surprise. But Erik was smiling before he had completed the opening parry, and as he moved to execute the perfect counter, Gourry realized his mistake, barely in time to avoid a fatal stroke meant to slice through his guard and disembowel him.

Crouch. Twist. Crack. Pain. A scream. Twist.

Instead of trailing his guts all over the floor, Gourry escaped with some cracked ribs. Every breath was agony. _He moves just like _she_ did_, the boy had said. Gisella Gabriev. The woman who had arrived with Erik. No wonder he countered Gourry's patterns so easily! They were the ones he had learned sparring with his mother. But there was no time to wonder about the difference in names. He had to end this _now_.

"Gourry!" A flash of pink ran up the corridor behind Erik. Although she held no weapon, her hands were poised to launch an attack, and he clearly heard her unvoiced command to get out of her way.

Lina. Relief crashed over him, quickly replaced by another surge of anger that threatened to blind him. She was alive, but that was probably the best that could be said about her. In a single glance—all he could spare from Erik—he had noted the pink silk wrapped tightly around a body that had always been skinny, but now looked like a skeleton overlaid with skin. Her wrists and ankles looked like half-done meat—partially raw and bleeding, partially singed and burnt, and blood oozed from fresh wounds in half a dozen places. He could see the darker stains seeping through the silk. Her eyes burned from sunken hollows in a gaunt face. But her hair . . . that shocked him the most. It hung, lank and listless about her shoulders, and it had _almost no color left_.

Damn her! She had sucked herself dry! Only one thing drained color from her hair, like that: the overuse of her magic. And only one thing would fix it: sleep, food, and _no magic_. Yet there she stood, he could see the spell on her lips, feel her gathering that energy from wherever sorcerers got it.

"Gourry, get out of the way!" she rasped, her eyes glittering. She had a clear shot at Erik, but he knew that anything she was planning was going to go straight through Erik and whatever else was behind him, including walls, rooms, small villages, perhaps. Anger flared again.

He had no breath to respond. As if Lina's arrival were some sort of signal, Erik switched from defense to offense, moving easily into the patterns Gourry had used just moments earlier. Their roles were reversed now. Erik initiated, and Gourry responded with the counter, almost instinctually, conserving his strength, dancing them in a circle. Placing himself _between_ Lina and Erik. He was the protector. He would protect Lina from _anything_. Even if it was himself. Even if it was _Lina_, herself.

Whatever she was planning would kill her.

He would not allow it.

Something moved in the shadows behind Erik. Gourry ignored it. He could afford no distraction. He meant to keep Lina alive. He intended to keep himself alive, too, and that meant there was no margin for error. Erik had the advantage, and they both knew it. So Gourry broke the pattern, grunting with effort and ignoring the scream of protest from his ribs as he began the move that would hopefully slice through Erik's sword. Before he could follow through, Erik's eyes bulged as his body jerked backwards. His sword fell from suddenly nerveless fingers as his hands flew up to his throat. Blood blossomed around a sharp metal point protruding just beside his Adam's apple. The point disappeared, and Erik began to gurgle as he collapsed to the floor.

Gourry tried to suck in air without moving his ribs while he watched Erik drown in his own blood. The shadow leaned down and wiped something on Erik's shirt, held it briefly before his eyes, and then offered it hilt-first to Gourry.

"Yours, I believe." Ryan spoke without emotion, although his eyes glittered with a mix of conflicting emotions: cold determination, anger, panic, and shock, all tinged with sorrow and regret. He held the blade with a rock steady hand while Gourry's eyes traced the familiar hilt of the main gauche.

As Gourry's fingers touched the proffered weapon, Ryan's eyes quickly flicked towards Lina, who had moved to stand just behind him on the left. Gourry suddenly understood that Ryan was referring to more than the blade. For a moment, they both held the main gauche, and then Ryan relaxed his grip.

"Why?" Gourry asked as he slipped miniature replica of the Sword of Light into his belt. He glanced down at Erik, who had stopped struggling, although the rhythmic ooze of blood from his throat indicated that he was not quite dead yet.

Ryan did not answer, immediately. His jaw clenched, and then with visible effort, he forced himself to relax, forced his features into a neutral expression. He turned slightly, and held out his hand toward the shadows behind him. Slowly, and hesitantly, a figure peeked around a pile of rubble. Gourry heard Lina's sudden gasp as he noted the bruises on the figure's arms and face, the haunted and skittish look in her eyes, and the way she tried to hide herself behind matted red hair. A younger version of Lina, he had thought the first time he had seen her. The easy confidence with which she had carried herself had been replaced by a hunched and cringing posture.

Behind him, he felt Lina tense up. There was the strange sensation of something rushing past him, even though there was no movement in the air. He turned slightly, and saw that aside from a muscle fluttering in her jaw, her face was a mask of malevolent anger, all directed at Erik. Her breath rasped in her throat as she started muttering under her breath, and he saw a freshet of blood stream from the corner of her mouth.

He barely heard the clatter of his sword as it hit the flagstones, barely felt the shriek of fracture ribs. His arms seemed to push through molasses in their effort to grab Lina's shoulders. He knew he was shouting at her, but he could barely hear his own voice over the thump and thud of his heart. Time slowed . . . stretched . . . and like a suddenly released rubber band, snapped forward abruptly. Lina collapsed against him, and it took all his self-control not to cry out against the renewed flare of pain as she jostled his broken ribs. She reached up to stroke his cheek with her hand. Even her eyes, which had been the only part of her that seemed alive, looked dull—like banked embers. They drifted shut, and she coughed weakly.

"Gourry?" Her voice was so quiet, muffled against his chest.

"Yeah?" he asked softly, running her too-pale hair through his fingers. Around him, he was marginally aware of activity. Ryan had his arm protectively around Shella, who hid her face in Ryan's arm, and hunched her shoulders. Her clothes had been torn to tatters, barely providing any cover for bruised flesh. While Ryan shielded Shella, he talked intently with Lucilla's mother, who seemed to be trying to take control of the situation. The battle was over. Now, it was time to assess the casualties and start rebuilding.

Lina was quiet for a very long time. Finally, she looked up at him. "I'm hungry." Her voice was nearly as thin as fine paper, but it carried a hint of her normal fire. "I'm _really_ hungry," she repeated, a bit more forcefully, and with a suggestion of petulance.

Monara gestured to her page. "Jeral, escort Lord and Lady Gabriev to the kitchens. Give them anything they ask for." Her eyes narrowed as she assessed Lina, who had perked up ever so slightly at Monara's words. "Anything, within _reason_, that is," she amended.

Food. And a bed. With Lina in it. At the moment, there was nothing else he wanted.

* * *

AN: Thanks to everyone who has stuck with the story, in spite of the long hiatus between updates. I wish I could promise that the final chapter in the story will be up soon, but all I can guarantee is that as long as I don't die, I will finish, eventually. This chapter went through a major scrap and overhaul, plus several revisions before becoming presentable. I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Flarn, author of "An Ignominious End." She's been much on my mind, particularly as I've written the past two chapters, and I think some of the themes she introduced in IE have made their way into this story as a result. I'd also like to thank Filing Sloth and Aniiksa for beta-reading and cheering me on. Just one more to go! 


	16. And A Time For Every Purpose

When Lina awoke, she was surrounded by familiar—strong arms encircled her; the scent of metal and leather and slightly acrid maleness. Gentle fingers tugged through her hair—she could hear its rasp against skin, almost feel the individual tendrils being twined around fingers, forming a binding ring—a single link in a chain. She was almost afraid to open her eyes. Afraid to find herself still weak and helpless, stuck in a nightmare partially imposed by another, but partially of her own design as well.

She was so tired! Surely it was okay to stay like this, safe in this dream? She snuggled closer, needing to feel more than Gourry's arms around her. She wanted to feel his body pressed against her—she wanted him to mark her with his scent, to claim her so that all other males would know her to be taken and off limits. She reached out, snaking her own fingers into the wealth of his hair to pull him closer, to feel his breath against her skin.

She felt his wince more than anything else—the almost imperceptible tightening of jaw muscles and the slight hitch interrupting his breathing. It was enough to force her unwilling eyes open.

Gourry was not looking at her—not exactly. His gaze was focused on the white hair wrapped around his index finger. Lina stared at the white bandages that swathed the lower half of his hand, thick blood-stained bandages that could not hide missing fingers—two from his left hand unless she was mistaken. His right hand was hidden from view.

Anger coursed through her, burning away the desire to sleep, as the memory of Gourry's battle with Erik flashed behind her eyes. Gourry's lumbering slow movements, stripped of his usual finesse and skill. The sword that should have been a natural extension of his arm, instead gripped awkwardly and obviously causing him pain. She sat up quickly and grabbed both of his hands at the wrists to examine them, barely glancing at the white bandages tightly wrapping his ribs. The right hand was a mirror of the left.

"Gourry," she whispered, unable to make a louder sound. "What happened?"

"They had to come off, Lina," his voice cracked. "It was lose the fingers now, or the hands later."

"What happened?" Lina repeated, a bit more forcefully. Same words, different question.

His eyes closed, and he swallowed convulsively. When he opened them again, he avoided her gaze. "We're still at Deremar's keep. Neither of us was in any condition to go anywhere . . . and Monara _owes_ me . . ." Now he did look at her. "You've been sleeping for days."

"How many?" It was hardly surprising. In spite of the delicious flow of power she had felt after breaking the circlet, her body barely had the strength to channel it.

A barely perceptible shrug. "Dunno. I lost track. A lot. Enough to scare Siebert."

"He's here?" She supposed she should have expected it. "Is he the one who . . ." her eyes flicked to his hands.

"Yeah. He came for Shella, but . . ." Gourry trailed off again. "Ryan took Shella home."

Lina swallowed hard, remembering how bruised the girl had looked, both physically and emotionally. She heard Erik's threat to Ryan echo in her mind, and it took little effort to recognize the leverage Erik held over his younger brother. It explained why she had found it difficult to trust Ryan . . . "Was she . . ." It was her turn to trail off.

"Probably." Gourry's tone was bleak.

Once again, she relived the pain and terror of two-fold violation: Erik forcefully taking the body as magical power seduced her soul . . .

"Lina!" Gourry's voice cracked like a whip, not quite hiding his own pain and terror.

With a gasp, Lina pulled back, just as the flames that coursed over her body leaped out to burn everything around her. Control. The mantra her sister had pounded into her head, until the memory had been buried, and the mental barrier that prevented her from being a menace to all around her had become instinctive—as natural as breathing.

"Lina?" His voice was tentative now, soft and gentle, terror transmuted to fear, with an undercurrent of pain.

Control. She forced herself to survey the damage. Blood-stained bandages swathing his hands now streaked with gray, as were the bandages around his ribs and the bed linens. She could see the pain in his eyes, along with . . . recognition?

"You've seen this before," she said in a brittle voice as she gestured to herself and the scorch marks that touched everything in her immediate vicinity.

He nodded. "Yes. Once." He stretched his arms out to her, and she cautiously moved into his embrace, careful to avoid bumping his hands or jostling his ribs. His arms tightened around her, as his fingers once again twined through her hair. "I knew . . ." his voice hitched, and he tried again. "I knew you weren't virgin, our first time . . . At first I thought it had been Ryan, the way he looked at you . . . but it didn't quite fit." His fingers stilled. "It wasn't Ryan. It was Erik, wasn't it?"

Lina felt her throat tighten, and she tried to choke back a sob. Her shoulders shook silently as she struggled to control herself. Lina Inverse was many things, but a cry-baby was not one of them. Gourry said nothing, he just continued to hold her, his remaining fingers stroking gently over and through her hair. After taking a deep breath, she started to tell him about the girl she used to be. At first she spoke slowly, interrupted by long pauses, but then suddenly, it was as if a dam had broken within her, and the words gushed forth in a torrent accompanied by tears that refused to be held back any longer.

* * *

She started with a dry and emotionless account of her childhood, but it quickly turned ugly. Dark and hurtful words poured out of her as she railed at Erik, at the world, her parents and sister, Ryan, and even him. She cried and at one point she started screaming as she tried to claw her way out of his embrace. Gourry did the only thing he could think of. He held her. And he listened. And he finally understood the terrified girl-child he had seen so briefly in her eyes, as well as what it had cost her to lock that part of herself away.

He held her until her words slowed, and her breathing eased. Until she fell into an exhausted sleep, snoring inelegantly against his chest. Even then, he continued to hold her, taking comfort in having her so near.

With a quiet snick, the door opened, and Siebert entered, carrying a tray laden with food. Real food, Gourry amended to himself, having endured a lifetime of tea and toast. After kissing the top of Lina's head, he carefully disentangled himself from her before moving to join Siebert at the small table.

"How is she?" Siebert asked as Gourry reached for the generously sized steak that still sizzled.

"I thought she'd be hungry," Gourry replied, wincing as he tried to cut into the steak without banging the knife against tender stumps. "I guess she's still too tired. I thought some of the color was starting to come back into her hair, but . . ." He focused on his steak, avoiding Siebert's gaze.

"Give her time, Gourry. Her body knows what it needs right now." Siebert glanced over at Lina, before looking pointedly at Gourry. "How are you?"

Gourry slowly chewed a piece of steak, as he considered the question. "I hurt," he finally said honestly. "I can still feel that burning sensation occasionally." He gave a short bark of laughter that lacked all humor. "Sometimes, I can still feel the fingers . . ."

With a sigh, Siebert pushed back from the table. "All normal, considering what you've been through," he said quietly, as he moved to Lina's side. "Finish your dinner, and then we'll take a look."

Starting slowly, Gourry worked his way through the platter of food, while he watched Siebert examine Lina. The food was well-prepared, and it was pure bliss to experience bold flavors, particularly after his extended diet of toast and tea. It helped to banish the strong association he had developed, linking eating and feeling nauseous, and he allowed himself to relish his meal, eating with more enthusiasm, albeit not at his normal pace. As great as it was to have real food again . . . well, eating just was not as much fun without Lina competing for the choicest morsels.

He stared into space, remembering the first time Lina had drained her hair to white. He had piggy-backed her for days while she slept, trying to get them to a town where she could get decent rest in a good bed. He doubted that being piggy-backed was the most comfortable way to sleep. Still, he had enjoyed having her so close to him, even if she had decked him pretty seriously when she woke up enough to smell food. Two or three days of sleeping and eating had been enough to restore her once they got to a town. Gourry was certain it had been at least half again as long as that . . .

"Drink this," Siebert handed him a cup, and then moved to wash his hands in a basin.

Gourry grimaced at the bitter taste, but quickly drained the cup. At least it lacked the taste of anise, and Siebert had told him exactly what was in it. Pain killers, something to help his bones knit, something to thicken his blood, and something to help purge the poison that had cost him the better part of four fingers: pinkies completely gone; the ring finger of his left hand down to the first knuckle; and just the tip of the ring finger on his right.

Once he had drained the cup, he held out his bandaged hands, and grit his teeth against the inevitable pain of unwrapping. Except that pain never exactly came. It still hurt a lot, but it lacked the bone-jarring intensity of the previous days. "Did you up the dose of the pain-killers?" he asked as Siebert began removing the final layer of bandages to expose the healing poultices.

Siebert gave him a sharp glance. "No," he said slowly, as he peeled one of the poultices away.

Both Gourry and Siebert stared at the exposed stump. Yesterday, fragile scabs had torn away along with the poultice, and the remains of his finger looked like raw meat weeping blood. Today, a thick brown scab reminded him too much of the dead flesh that Siebert had removed. Siebert quickly exposed the remaining stumps, only to find the same situation.

"How—" Gourry started, and then he bit it off and glared in Lina's direction.

"She cast Recovery?" Siebert asked quietly, following Gourry's gaze.

"I didn't notice her doing it," Gourry said slowly, trying to recall if he had felt the sensation of flesh knitting itself back together, but all he could remember was the pain of holding Lina while she purged poisoned memories.

Siebert grunted noncommittally, and lightly re-bandaged the stumps before he moved on to examine the ribs. "Well," he said after a moment. "Looks like the bones are well-knit at this point. And the fingers are doing well, too. As long as you take it easy over the next couple days, I'd imagine that as soon as the mourning period is over, you'll be good enough to step out on the practice field again . . ."

The mourning period. He was, of course, referring to the period following the death and burial of the lady of the Keep. Gisella. Stranger like and not like the mother he remembered. He found that he could not mourn her death. Monara had asked him if he had any requests as to the disposition of the body. He had none, save to ask for the dagger she had held when he saw her laid out, the dagger with the device both like and unlike his family's crest. Not because he wanted a memento, but because he thought Lina might be able to identify it, and perhaps it would provide answers. Which reminded him . . .

"Siebert," Gourry said abruptly, interrupting the old healer's rambling monologue. "You said you'd heard about what happened to Gabriev Keep." When Siebert nodded, Gourry pressed on. "What did you hear?"

Siebert glanced over at Lina, before looking Gourry square in the eye. "I've heard the servants whispering. I've heard the Lady's version of the destruction." He paused, and gripped the back of a chair. "But that's not the same as the story I heard a few years ago. I'm not saying that I believe it . . . I'd hoped it was just a garbled rumor, until you kind of confirmed it . . . but I'd heard that one of the Five Great Sages had ripped apart a small keep looking for the Sword of Light. Something about it falling into the hands of evil . . ."

Gourry let out the breath he had not realized he was holding. Siebert clapped him on the shoulder. "Get some rest, Gourry. I'll bring up more food in a couple hours."

Once Siebert left the room, Gourry picked up the main gauche leaning next to his sword, experimenting with his grip, and hissing as the hilt jarred his healing stubs. A few days of rest, and he would be able to step back on the practice field. He had a lot of work to do. New grips to learn, a body woefully out of shape to recondition. As much as it pained him to remain here, to receive deferential treatment from those who consistently called him "Lord Gabriev," even though he had asked them repeatedly to just call him Gourry, to hear their fond stories of Gisella . . . and their whispered venomous comments about Lina . . . he could keep Lina safe from the servants. They would tolerate her for his sake, if nothing else. But once he was fit again . . . then he was going to get them the hell away from this crazy place.

As Gourry slipped back into the bed with Lina, he once again examined her too-pale hair, twining strands around his fingers. He slept fitfully that night, dreaming of a tall imposing man dressed in red, with ruby-red eyes, who laughed as explosion after explosion rocked the landscape, leaving Gabriev Keep a burned-out husk behind him.

* * *

It was the smell of food that woke her. Fresh roasted chicken . . . seasoned vegetables . . . piping hot bread straight from the oven . . . Lina's stomach felt like a gaping cavern, aching to be filled. With a groan, she pushed herself upright, following her nose because it was almost too much effort to open her eyes. If not for her stomach, she would still be blissfully sleeping.

"I thought the food would bring you around," an amused male voice stated.

Lina forced eyes open. "Siebert?" she asked groggily around a yawn.

He smiled at her like an indulgent father. "Hungry?"

"Starved!" Lina staggered the few steps from the bed to the table, reaching for a slice of the bread to cram into her mouth. Her eyes slid shut as she blissfully chewed for all of two seconds before wolfing the slice and reaching for more. She was halfway through her fourth piece and about to start in on the chicken when she noticed something. "Where's Gourry?" she asked around a mouthful of food.

"Practice field," Siebert replied with a shrug.

Lina took a breath to ask another question as she continued to shovel food in her mouth.

"Look," Siebert cut her off, looking slightly ill. "Talk or eat."

With a shrug of her own, Lina applied herself to polishing off the rest of the meal, and after sighing lustily and wiping her mouth, she leaned back in her chair, feeling closer to normal than she had in . . . "How long?" she asked first.

"Two weeks," he replied. "Gourry said you woke up once about four days ago. Do you remember?"

"Two weeks?" Lina echoed incredulously. That long? Okay, sure, she had sucked her reserves dry, been going on little sleep and less food . . . plus she had been attacked and sliced to ribbons . . . But still . . .

Siebert leaned forward, grabbing her arm to make sure he had her attention. "Lina. Do you remember anything from the past two weeks?" There was an intensity about the question that she did not associate with Siebert, and that earned him her full attention far more quickly than his grip on her arm.

She shook her head slowly, not in denial, but just trying to sort through her most recent memories. Gourry fighting Erik . . . Ryan holding his hand out to Shella . . . Monara promising them anything they wanted . . . Waking up to the feel of Gourry running his hands through her hair . . . Gourry's hands . . . Everything came back in a flood, including—especially—those memories she had locked away so long ago. Again, that raw feeling of being sundered . . . violation and vulnerability . . . She doubted she would ever forget again, wondered how she could live with the memory. Wondered if it would rise up when Gourry touched her . . . Lina swallowed hard and shook her head sharply this time, seizing upon another memory, more recent, and the anger it kindled within her. "You amputated his fingers," she purred malevolently at Seibert. "Why?"

"Have you ever heard of St. Anthony's Fire?" Siebert asked as he released his grip on her arm. "According to Gourry, the only thing Gisella allowed him to eat was rye bread. The rye was infected, and it led to dry rot in his fingers."

"Right," Lina said slowly. "Lose the fingers now, or lose the hands latter," she added bitterly.

"He's nearly healed," Siebert pointed out. "Enough to start relearning the sword . . ."

"With only three fingers on each hand?" Lina shot back, slamming her hands down on the table and half-standing. "Gourry's good, but that's like asking the impossible. We need to get him to a priest or shrine maiden, so he can—"

"He's not strong enough yet for that kind of high-level Recovery," Siebert returned with heat. "You subject him to travel in his current state, and then ask his body to give the kind of energy required for that level of healing? It would kill him. He needs to rebuild his stamina," Siebert continued more calmly. "Then you can go off to see if you can find a skilled enough priest . . . and if you can meet the price . . ." Siebert gripped Lina's arm once again, an attempt to provide reassurance. "And if you'd seen Gourry on the practice field with a sword in his hand, you'd understand. As long as he can grip a sword, I don't think anything is impossible for him."

Lina slumped back down into her chair, feeling suddenly exhausted, as her mind tried to deal with this new information, to slot the puzzle pieces into their proper positions. "Gisella? You mean Gourry's mother—" she broke off abruptly. A trap. Yes, it had all been an elaborate trap. For her. For him. The hair in the main gauche suddenly and mysteriously in Ryan's possession . . . bait for the trap. The offered exchange: her in return for Gourry's mother. She had been aware of how well the trap had been tailored to keep her chained, but she had failed to consider the other aspect that had been designed to cage Gourry. So that was what Erik had meant when he told her Gourry was in the care of his mother.

"Lina," Siebert interrupted her thoughts, his grip on her arm tightening. "Lady Gabriev . . . Gourry's mother . . ." He closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "Her name was Lisielle," he said softly with an air of reverence and regret.

Lisielle. Gisella. They were close . . . but not exactly the same . . . She gently removed her arm from Siebert's grasp and steepled her fingers under her chin, closing her eyes to see if she could discern the larger pattern. Gisella was part of the trap . . . but required controlling . . . Lucilla's task . . . Lina sighed in disgust. Too many pieces were still missing. And she was still so _tired_ . . .

She opened her eyes, planning to make her excuses to Siebert before toppling back into bed for more sleep. He was staring at her intently, considering. When he saw the questioning quirk in her eyebrow, he paused, took a deep breath as if to say something, then fell silent again.

"What?" Lina asked suspiciously. "What else is there?"

"Gourry doesn't know this. I felt it wasn't my place to say." He studied his hands, folded and resting on the table, before meeting her eyes. "But I think you should know."

"Just spit it out already," Lina said impatiently. "Enough with the melodrama."

"You were pregnant, Lina," he said simply.

"Were . . . How . . . What . . . How—" She had great difficulty getting her brain to work properly after that little pronouncement, let alone coordinating speech.

"The usual way, I'd suppose," Siebert deadpanned.

"That's not what I meant!" Lina snapped, her annoyance freeing her tongue, while her thoughts raced at a whirlwind pace. "How do you know? And what do you mean, 'were'?" Without consciously realizing that she was doing so, she placed her hand protectively over her belly.

"I know because I've been trained to recognize the difference between a heavy menstrual flow and a miscarriage," he replied, answering both questions. "When the bleeding actually transitioned to hemorrhaging, I was sure."

Lina remembered the cramps she had felt that last day hanging in Erik's dungeon and how they had felt different from her normal cycle. "You didn't tell Gourry. Why tell me?"

"I almost didn't," he admitted. "Had it been a normal miscarriage, I probably wouldn't have said anything. Most pregnancies end in early miscarriage, and women don't even realize, maybe thinking that their cycle was a bit later and heavier than usual . . ." he trailed off with a shrug. "But you being you, of course you can't have a normal miscarriage, can you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lina demanded indignantly.

"Sorry," Siebert apologized as he rubbed at his eyes with thumb and forefinger. "I just can't believe the amount of trouble you two get into."

Lina snorted. "Trouble? This was nothing, really."

"I've heard the stories," he shot back. "Dead is dead, Lina. Whether it's a poisoned knife, a rock to the head, heavy blood loss, or Ruby-Eyed Shabranigdu destroying your physical body!" He took a deep breath and continued more calmly. "Gourry doesn't know how close you came to dying this time," he said softly. "I was keeping him under heavy sedation because of his fingers." He paused again. "You two are keeping me on my toes, that's for sure," he said with a weak attempt at a smile.

"Why did you tell me?" Lina repeated her earlier question.

Siebert was silent for a long time. "Gourry told me about the other time he saw your hair white," he said finally. "I don't treat a lot of sorceresses, but I do know that something is not right with your body right now. It's more than exhaustion. More than the sum of various things you've suffered of late." He paused again. "I told you so that you would understand."

Lina considered what he said, and also what he left unsaid. "Do you think I'll recover?" She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

"Honestly? I don't know, Lina," he said with a heavy sigh. "I really don't know."

* * *

He was supposed to be sparring on the practice field. The plan was to sharpen his skills by testing himself against the others. Unfortunately, it ended up turning out quite differently than he expected. The few remaining mercs who had been under Erik's command were no match for him, even in his current state. Even lacking the fingers to make a proper grip. The only one who came close to providing a challenge was Jeral, Monara's page. A young boy with a great deal of raw talent, who was untrained, and at best, about one quarter Gourry's size.

So, instead of sparring, he was teaching.

They had started with the basics. First they had learned the proper beginner stances, and the exercises necessary to strengthen the muscles required to hold a swordsman in the proper stance. Now, they were moving on to grips. Gourry moved back and forth among his students, repositioning hands and fingers around the "hilts" of the wooden practice rods they used: four of Erik's former mercs; eight men and two women from Fenwic, the village that stood in the shadow of Deremar's keep; and Jeral. Once he was satisfied with their grips, he slid into his own stance, wrapping his hands around his own practice rod, and challenged them to disarm him. He was particularly proud of this exercise. Not only was it providing opportune defensive training for his students, but it was also making him learn the strengths—and limits—of his own new grip. So far, none of them had been able to disarm him . . . and after he sent the fifth "sword" flying from the hands of one of his students, he realized that today would probably be no different.

With a sigh, Gourry raked his fingers through his hair, more out of habit than out of necessity. He had asked one of the servants to even it up and remove the singed portions, so his hair was much shorter now than he was accustomed. It was a sad statement about the quality of merc bands that the villagers had come closer to disarming him than the supposedly "professional" soldiers. Altering the drill slightly, he had them break up into pairs, instructing one of the partners to use the proper grip, and the other to use only a four-fingered grip, hoping that they would better be able to recognize the inherent weaknesses if they practiced against someone of more similar skill. He circled around them, instructing, correcting, suggesting, testing. Finally, when the sun was at its zenith, he called for a halt, and watched as his students gratefully made their way to the water barrels at the edge of the field.

They were making progress, albeit slowly. What was frustrating was the feeling that his own progress was just as slow. While his students drank their water and chatted companionably, Gourry picked up his sword, and tested his skills against one of the wooden practice dummies he had constructed. Slash. Change direction. Thrust. Change pattern. Slice. Each blow against the wooden dummy jolted the hilt in his hand, and he felt the strain in his remaining fingers, felt the pain radiating up through his hand when hilt jarred still-tender stump. Still he pushed himself, forcing himself to alter his swing, alter his patterns, until he could be certain he understood all the changes in his grip, until he understood how to compensate for missing fingers. He changed pattern again to strike a blow that should cleave the dummy in two, only to find half-way through the swing that his fingers lacked the strength to translate power from the arm into the sword. He snarled in frustration, staring first at the sword that had only sliced halfway through the dummy, and then at his maimed hands, irrationally thinking of them as traitors to his skill. It hardly mattered if he could prevent someone else from disarming him if his own blows could cause him to lose his grip.

After staring at the sword lodged deeply within the practice dummy for a long moment, Gourry sighed, braced himself to jerk it out, and joined his students for much needed water. Jeral wordlessly handed him a full dipper, his eyes gleaming with admiration.

Gourry quickly swallowed what was in the dipper, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Honestly, Jeral," he chided as he shook his head. "That wasn't all that impressive." No. Not impressive at all.

Jeral shrugged. "I don't think Erik could have reduced a practice dummy to so much kindling," he said as he pulled a larger woodchip off Gourry's tunic. "Not even Lady Gabriev could do as much." His eyes took on a far-away quality, as he stared at nothing.

Gourry hid a grimace behind the water dipper. Jeral delighted in comparing his style to that of Gisella. He was young enough to be impressed by superior skill. Talented enough to recognize it. Gourry thought that with proper training, Jeral could be impressive some day. Not as good as Gourry had been before losing fingers, but good enough for most situations. He set the dipper down and pulled out a soft cloth and whetstone to take care of his blade.

"You don't like her," Jeral said quietly. "Do you?"

"Did you like Erik?" Gourry asked, just loud enough to be heard over the rasp of whetstone on his blade. He already knew the answer; he just hoped it was enough to change the subject.

"No. And I never understood why she put up with him." Jeral hunkered down, watching Gourry intently.

The silence stretched out between them, until Gourry pulled out a flask of oil and very carefully started coating his blade.

"Why do you oil a steel blade?" Jeral asked curiously. I understand using oil to prevent rust, but . . ."

Gourry glanced up from his sword and smiled. And then he patiently began explaining his maintenance ritual. As he watched Jeral absorbing his words, he remembered himself as a young boy, watching the Master of the Guards caring for his weapon, and asking a similar question. His smile faded as he remembered the Keep in all its glory, and felt a very rare pang of homesickness. For several years now, "home" had been wherever Lina was. He would happily follow her to the ends of the earth—he had already done so, in fact. But it would be nice to have a place of their own, a place where they could do things on their own schedule. His brow furrowed as he glanced between the inn where Gisella had kept a room and Deremar's Keep. As much as he was enjoying instructing others in the art of the sword, and as much as nearly everyone was going out of their way to make him feel welcome, he knew that same sentiment would not be extended to Lina. There was no way he could let them stay in a place where everyone believed Gisella's lies.

* * *

Breakfast had been the first clue. The tray had carried single portions, nowhere near enough to feed her under normal circumstances, let alone when she was still trying to replenish her reserves. And then there was the food itself. Everything was just . . . off. Over-salted eggs, just at the verge of being inedible—almost, but not quite. Milk that was just ever-so-slightly sour, and butter that was just at the edge of turning rancid. Toast that was almost too burnt to eat. If not for the meals she had eaten with Gourry or Siebert, she would have seriously questioned the ability of the cooks.

Laundry had been the second clue. She had put all of her clothes in a basket with Gourry's. Gourry's clothes had returned, freshly laundered and neatly folded. Hers . . . had not returned at all. When she asked one of the servants where she could find her laundry, the response bordered on rude, and Lina had this itching desire to slap the girl silly—an urge she controlled only with great difficulty.

At least the half-caught snatches of whispers confirmed that she was not imagining things, but it took a visit from Monara to explain the hostility of the servants of Deremar's Keep.

"So that's the reason," Lina whispered after listening to the stories Gisella had told about the destruction of Gabriev Keep. Much of it was consistent with the fragments she had gleaned from Gourry the day she had unknowingly pushed him about his heritage—the story of Gourry's father and elder brother cooked and served; the gutting of the Keep, and the death of all who refused to flee. The part that was inconsistent with Gourry's version was the fact that Gisella placed responsibility squarely on Lina's shoulders. She swallowed convulsively. "They think that I forced Gisella to eat—" She broke off, her stomach recoiling at the thought.

Lina knew that over the course of the past few years, she had blown up many places. Some of them had been intentional. Some of them had been accidental. Some of them had merely been collateral damage in a larger pursuit. But the crimes Gisella had lain at her feet . . . if she had been someone else, she would have hated her, too.

"Does Gourry know?" she asked, her voice sounding unnaturally loud to her ears.

Monara absently twisted the signet ring on her index finger. "Probably," she said shortly.

Lina suddenly felt as if she could not get enough air. She staggered over to the window and pulled the sash open, breathing in the crisp scent of autumn air. Very faintly, she could hear the distinctive "thwack" of wooden practice swords clashing. She had seen very little of Gourry recently. He spent most of his waking hours on the practice field, and she had spent her scant few waking hours eating. However, when they had been awake together, she could tell that he was hiding something from her.

"Why did you tell me this?" Lina asked as she captured one of the curtains, preventing the breeze from blowing it in her face. She turned to face Monara. "Do you believe Gisella's tale?"

"I owe Gourry a debt," Monara replied calmly enough, "for eliminating Erik." She looked Lina straight in the eye. "Funny, isn't it? Both she and Erik were obsessed with you, albeit in different ways. It drove Lucilla crazy . . ." she trailed off.

Lina braced herself for the question she had been expecting ever since Monara walked into her room.

"No one's seen Lucilla for several days. Ever since Erik died." Monara started to twist the signet on her finger again. "Lucilla was in love with Erik you know," Monara said quietly, looking up to see Lina's reaction. "Do you know what happened to her?"

"The last time I saw Lucilla, she was running out of the cell where I had been kept," Lina replied evenly, meeting Monara's gaze. It was true . . . it just omitted the fact that she knew exactly what had become of Lucilla the instant her spell had impacted.

"I see," Monara said quietly, her gaze returning to the signet. "Everyone knows how devoted Lucilla was to Erik," she mumbled. "Perhaps she decided . . ." she trailed off again, her gaze becoming unfocused. Finally she sighed and then shrugged.

"You think she might be dead as well?" Lina asked tentatively. Compared to the reaction of the woman who had clutched Lucilla's seemingly dead form before the mob that had tried to lynch her and Gourry, Monara's current demeanor was completely unexpected.

Monara studied Lina intently. "Or faking," she finally said, waving her hand in a deprecating manner. "It wouldn't be the first time, as I'm sure you're aware."

Lina nodded slowly.

"Although it would only be the second that I'm aware of," Monara continued. "It was quite skillfully done, if I do say so myself. She took a drug that dramatically slowed her metabolism, coupled with artfully applied make-up, and Elfred's assistance . . . yes, I believed that she was dead. And publically, it seemed better to play the grief-stricken step-mother. The lynching of two complete strangers seemed a minor price to pay to have my troublesome slut of a daughter out of the picture." Monara shrugged in apology. "If it's any consolation, I was glad you two escaped, and quite impressed with the way you were able to keep casualties to a minimum. Not exactly what I would have expected, even had I known you were the Dra-Mata." She shrugged again when Lina winced at that hated epithet. "At any rate," Monara continued with a chuckle, "both Erik and Gisella ripped into Lucilla for that little ploy."

"Oh?" Lina asked politely, wondering why she felt a growing distaste for the woman. Maybe it was just that nothing in this place was turning out to be as it seemed. She had assumed that Monara was a normal caring mother, but even if she was not, the fact that she would play-act grief and stand by to watch the lynching of two innocent strangers . . . If she were not dependent upon the other woman's hospitality at the moment (and if she knew she could depend on her magic), she so would have happily arranged to send Monara off to meet her missing step-daughter.

"Oh, yes. Erik was upset because _you_ were in danger, and Gisella was upset because of the threat to Gourry." A wicked little smile danced briefly over her lips. "At any rate," she stated, abruptly changing topics, "I've extended the hospitality of the Keep to you two, as payment of my debt, and informed the servants that they are to treat you as honored guests. I thought you should understand why they are twisting those directions." She stood up and paced for a moment before stopping and studying Lina in a raking gaze that swept from head to toe. "I'm afraid that your clothes have been damaged beyond repair."

"Really?" Lina asked, her tone sweetly venomous. Monara was good, Lina would give her that much, but she was hiding something. Something about her words just did not ring quite true.

"Fortunately," Monara continued as if Lina had not spoken, "you seem to be of similar size and build as Lucilla. I'll have Jeral bring you a suitable selection from her wardrobe later today." She cocked her head as she considered something. "Yes," she said finally with a nod. "That will be quite suitable." With a twirl of heavy skirts, Monara moved quickly to the door.

"I certainly hope you plan to discipline your servants," Lina said loudly on a sudden impulse, just as Monara placed her hand on the door handle. "After all, it doesn't do for them to be going against the will of the Lady of the Keep," she added as an afterthought.

Monara paused at the door. "Oh believe me," she purred, "I will deal with them." She shot Lina a malevolent look over her shoulder before she masked it with an insincere smile and slipped out of the room.

Lina suppressed a groan as the door shut with a definitive click, and she replayed the entire conversation in her mind, disentangling truths from misdirection. So Monara thought she could go toe to toe with Lina Inverse? Well, Lina would play along for now. It suited her purpose, and she was acquiring the kind of wardrobe she had only dreamed about in the process. Lina firmly squelched the thought that she was acquiring _Lucilla's_ wardrobe. Just thinking about the other girl gave her the sudden urge to fireball several large bandit camps into oblivion.

One thing was absolutely clear: Monara wanted them gone, the sooner the better, which suited her fine. Lina guessed that she had been telling the truth about why the servants were so hostile, but she also doubted that they were "twisting" Monara's commands. Her reaction to Lina's parting barb combined with some of her other comments suggested that Monara was too interested in power and status to allow servants to circumvent her instructions. Lina's lip curled in disgust. She figured that Monara was purely an opportunist. She would go the way the wind blew, rather than make it blow the way she wanted, and right now, it was blowing straight in Gourry's direction.

With a sigh, Lina flopped across the bed. At least the fact that she shared it with Gourry meant she was unlikely to find questionable items dumped in the bed . . . . If only she and Gourry had a place of their own . . . it was a thought that had been more and more on her mind, especially since Siebert had dropped his little bomb the other day. It had been easier when he had been here—she got decent food in decent quantities, at least—but she understood his desire to return home to Shella now that she and Gourry were both on the mend. She rolled onto her back, placing a hand over her belly. Strange to think that she had been pregnant. She supposed she should have considered the possibility . . . .

She had a hard time figuring out how she felt about it. It was hard to mourn the loss of a child she had never realized she had carried, but at the same time . . . she _was_ sad. A child that was part her and part Gourry would never have the chance to live. She sighed again. Who was she kidding? There was no way she was ready for a child at this point in her life. There was still so much she wanted to do, so much she wanted to see. Still. It would be so nice to have a place of their own . . . a place where they could go or not on their own schedule . . . where they could sleep in a bed that belonged to them alone . . .

Lina laughed self-deprecatingly. It had to be the merchant within her, this sudden desire to share property with her mate!

* * *

"Um, Lina?" Gourry asked slowly as he walked into their room.

"Yeah, Gourry?" She replied in a distracted tone.

"What are you doing?"

Lina stopped craning to look over her shoulder and gave him a quick glance. "Putting on a dress?" she asked in response, turning to present her back to him. He could see the row of tiny little buttons that she had been attempting to fasten.

He moved over to her, answering her unspoken request for help. "And why are you trying to put on a dress like this by yourself?" he asked, as he fastened the buttons that she had been unable to reach. The dress had a low-cut square back that rested just below her shoulder blades, exposing a great deal more flesh than was Lina's custom.

She twirled around to face him just as he starting running a finger lightly up her spine. Her head was cocked slightly to one side and her hands rested on her hips as she considered. "You think I should have asked the servants to help me?" she finally asked, her eyes snapping.

Swearing silently, Gourry seized upon the first thing he could think of to distract her. "Where'd you get the dress—dresses," he amended quickly after seeing the rumpled pile on the bed. He doubted that such a weak attempt to change the subject would work, but he hoped at least it would buy him some time, while he tried to figure out his own reaction. There was no doubt that her words were a challenge, and it was equally clear she had learned about the servants' prejudices.

"Monara gave them to me," she said shortly, and for half an instant, Gourry thought he had bought the time he needed. Until she continued in a sickeningly sweet tone, "because the servants decided to destroy my clothes."

"Because of Gisella," he said bitterly, fighting against the rising flood of helplessness, remembering how weak and trapped he had been, listening to her repeated stories of Lina torturing those unfortunate enough to survive the initial assault on Gabriev Keep, her insistence that Lina had somehow twisted him, brainwashed him, perverted him to believe she was innocent of the crimes Gisella laid at her feet.

"Because of Gisella," Lina echoed, in a monotone, all emotion drained from her voice. She took one step toward one of the over-stuffed chairs, and nearly tripped over her hem. He watched her as she swore under her breath before carefully lifting her skirts and moving with cautious deliberation.

The dress suited her, flattering her figure and making her look far more like a woman rather than some scrawny kid. The bodice was somehow both tastefully and suggestively low-cut—just barely exposing the swell of her breasts. She was beautiful. Desirable. And clueless about how to move in heavy court attire. Under normal circumstances, he probably would have been torn between the desire either to help her properly arrange her skirts to sit comfortably, or to help her out of the dress. Instead, he struggled against a growing anger as the silence stretched out and she deliberately avoided looking at him, withdrawing into herself.

Two steps closed the distance between them. Before she could so much as gasp, he had grabbed her by the forearms and yanked her up out of her chair. "Don't shut me out," he growled. "You don't know what it was like, being locked with her in that room." His eyes flicked in the general direction of the inn. "Day after day, until time had no meaning. Listening to her spin a story of horror that painted the woman I love as a cruel inhuman monster who feasted on pain and suffering. Slowly losing my grip on what was real and what was not—" He broke off and took a deep breath, letting go of her arms and sinking to his knees. "Don't shut me out, Lina," he repeated raggedly.

Her hands snaked around his neck, drawing his face toward hers so that their foreheads touched. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, soothingly. "I wasn't trying to shut you out." She closed her eyes momentarily, before taking her own deep breath and continuing. "I hadn't realized, until just a moment ago, how painful it must have been to be with Gisella." She placed a finger over his lips to forestall him when he took a breath to respond. "I don't know if you remember the day I asked you about your title . . . you were so upset . . . out of control . . ." She shuddered. "I just . . . I didn't want to push you . . . to remember . . . because it was too painful." She suddenly slumped against him. "I understand now," she whispered weakly, "why you wouldn't want to remember . . ."

Gourry tightened his arms around her, as relief shifted quickly to concern. Her complexion had turned ashen, and she was trembling with the effort to stay upright. Concern quickly flashed back to anger. "When's the last time you ate," he demanded, as he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, carelessly sweeping all the dresses onto the floor.

"Breakfast," she said weakly. "But it wasn't enough . . ."

White. So white. Hair. Skin. Even her lips had drained of color. "Wait here," he said, trying to keep his voice calm as he tucked the heavy quilt around her. "I'll be right back with some food."

"Don't worry," she said with a ghostly semblance of her normal fiery attitude. "I'm not going anywhere right now."

Taking steps two at a time, Gourry stormed down into the kitchen. Scanning through the hustle and bustle, he quickly located the head cook deep in conversation with one of Monara's aides. He closed the distance between them, grabbing the cook's elbow to get her attention.

"Lord Gabriev!" she exclaimed in pleased surprise. "What can I be doin' for . . ." she trailed off when she saw the thunderous expression on his face.

"My Lady is hungry," he replied, allowing his anger to tinge his tone. "I thought I asked you _specifically_ to send up a meal for three every three hours."

"'Twas just her in that room most the day," the cook grumbled, avoiding his gaze. "No need to waste effort preparin' food that won't go eaten," she added sullenly, "you not bein' there to get your share, an' the healer bein' returnin' to his home."

Gourry ground his teeth together, and forced himself to release her elbow. She rubbed at it surreptitiously, and he noticed the blossoming bruise marks where he had gripped her. Part of him was ashamed for bullying servants, even if he had not intended to harm her. Another part ruthlessly approved. If this is what it took for them to learn that he would not tolerate them mistreating Lina, so be it. But there was no need to grind their faces in it. At least not right now. Right now, he needed get food to Lina.

Ignoring the cook, who fluttered around him asking how she could help, Gourry grabbed a large serving tray and began piling it with food he thought would be good for Lina. A lot of red meat, bread and cheese. He added two pies cooling on a rack almost as an afterthought, along with a jug of wine, before lugging everything back up the stairs.

She was just where he had left her. She was still pale, but there was the barest hint of color in her lips and at least she no longer seemed on the verge of passing out. Her nose was quivering ever so slightly, and she stared at the food with a predatory gleam in her eye. Rather than moving her, he dropped his heavily laden tray on the table and moved it to the side of the bed. Starting with the bread, he fed her small bites and watched the color slowly return to her face. By the end of the meal, he was relieved to note that there was even a hint of color in her hair.

"I so needed that," she said with a lusty sigh, leaning back in the bed. "Now there's only one problem."

"Only one problem?" he asked, quirking one eyebrow.

A look of disgust passed over her face. "Well, at least I understand now why ladies eat so daintily. They'd bust their dresses, otherwise."

Gourry started to laugh.

Lina's eyes narrowed. "I'm serious, Gourry! Help me out of this thing!"

"Gladly, Mi'lady," he purred as he traced the neckline of her gown with his finger.

* * *

For the thousandth time in the past three days, Lina wished that there was a way for her to move through the keep undetected. She was tired of the snide looks and the open hostility. Tired of the elbows and broomsticks, and other hard pointy objects that were "accidentally" jabbed at her. Tired of having only one decent meal a day—the dinner she ate with Gourry in the evening. She supposed if she woke up earlier, she could share the generous—and properly flavored—breakfast that was always delivered to him . . . and as much as she was not a morning person, she would have done it for the chance to eat properly, except for the fact that she still needed about sixteen hours of sleep a day. The lack of enough food was dramatically slowing down her recovery, but even so, she should be near full strength by this point instead of still struggling towards full strength.

She ruthlessly clamped down on the thought that she might not recover, refusing to consider the possibility seriously. Although she still needed a prodigious amount of sleep, she was able to stay awake a little longer each day. It was the lack of food and the acid environment that combined to slow improvement. The petty things the servants did to make her life a living hell were pushing her already volatile temper close to the breaking point. There were two things—well three if she counted her current physical state—that held her back from simply Dragon Slaving the whole place to oblivion: Gourry, and oddly enough, Deremar.

Aside from Monara, he was the only other person in the Keep who treated her with any level of decency . . . or rather, he seemed not to care about Gisella's accusations. She supposed she could hardly call his frequent double entendres "decent." He certainly fell into an interesting category: mostly harmless pervert, who knew more about ancient lore and legends than any person she had ever encountered in all her travels.

It had been the day after Monara had sent Lucilla's clothes up. After eating a barely adequate breakfast that was just as "off" as the previous day's meal, she had spent her time trying to find a gown she could get into without assistance. As she calculated the yards and yards of fabric that went into just one of the dresses, Lina was quite happy that the clothes had been free gifts. She would never spend that much money on clothes. In spite of the fantasy of dressing like a princess that she had often entertained, now that she was actually wearing them she realized that nobles' clothing was just so impractical! It limited mobility in several ways: it was incredibly heavy—she understood at least part of Gourry's complaint at carrying Lucilla—and since the long skirts were designed to sweep the floor, if Lina tried to take a "normal" step, she ended up tripping on the fabric. She had found that it was most efficient to kind of "glide," just barely lifting her foot of the ground and pushing it forward, which moved assorted layers of skirts out of her way as well. Unfortunately, it made her legs cramp up something vicious.

Perhaps it had been a foolish decision to practice her new glide-step walking outside of the confines of her room. Honestly, she was feeling rather stir-crazy. After being stuck in a cell for gods knew how long, then stuck in this room for more time than she liked to think, Lina felt a craving for new scenery that over-powered any driving urge to rest and recover strength. Although Monara had told her how the servants felt about her, she had been unprepared for their open hostility and venomous whispered comments. She had never been the target of so much unmitigated hatred. People had certainly been _angry_ with her, but there was something clean about anger, whereas here the malevolence sucked at her, leaving her feeling somewhat tainted.

Finally, she had reached the point where she thought that if she had one more encounter with the servants of Deremar's Keep, she would probably not be able to restrain herself from wreaking violence on an unprecedented level—something she knew would be a very bad idea for several reasons. So when she heard the footsteps approaching her, she had ducked behind the first door she saw, hoping she would find herself in some abandoned room.

Instead, she found herself in the most impressive personal library she had ever seen. The sheer number of volumes came close to rivaling the size of collections held by Sorcerers' Guilds in most average size towns. Like a moth to a flame, Lina forgot that she was trying to hide from servants and drifted over to the closest shelf to peruse the contents.

Even now, Lina was not quite sure what she had expected. But never in her wildest dreams would she have thought she would find so many rare texts devoted to magic and ancient lore. She had trailed her fingers over the spines of leather-bound tomes, her lips moving as she read the titles, some familiar to her, and others not. It had been such a shock when she had found a copy of the _Grimoire of Lei Magnus_, one of the few forbidden texts possessed by the Sorcerers' Guild of Zefielia. The fact that it was forbidden had not stopped her from sneaking in just to take a peek . . . the little she had been able to glean in her limited time with the book had resulted in the Gigaslave . . . she had been barely cognizant of her surroundings as she pulled the volume off the shelf and started reading, drifting over to a comfortable chair.

She had completely lost track of time, but it had been long enough for her to read through about a third of the book when she heard the quiet snick of a door closing. She had flushed guiltily, feeling for all the world like an errant child, before she remembered where she was, and then she had prepared herself for another confrontation with one of the servants. Instead, she had looked up to see the elusive lord of the Keep. His glance had flicked from the empty slot on the shelf to the heavy book in her lap, and with a mild comment about the instructive nature of the text she was reading, he had selected his own book and sat down to read in a chair on the other side of the room. After staring at him incredulously for a moment, she had shrugged and gone back to reading. She had spent the majority of her waking hours here since.

Today, as she opened the door to the library, her nose was greeted with quite the surprise. Her eyes widened as she surveyed the feast laid out on one of the worktables. "What's the occasion," she asked as she glided over. Her mouth was watering, and she eyed the food with undisguised avarice.

"Just something to whet the appetite," Deremar responded, with slight emphasis on the last word. His eyes raked over her. "You need more flesh on those bones," he added critically.

Lina waved a hand dismissively at his comment, pointedly ignoring both words and glance as she seated herself and blissfully sank her teeth into a crisp red apple. She had learned not to bristle at his frequent double entendres and openly lewd remarks. Oh, there was no doubt about his interest in sex. He had waxed poetic discussing Lucilla's skill in bed, and had even offered to give her a few pointers. Lina felt herself blushing at the memory, partially in anger, partially from embarrassment. But despite his fixation, she never felt threatened by him. And she had to admit, his conversation was _most_ instructive, on multiple levels. She had learned quite a bit in the past few days, almost enough for her to understand the design of the snare to capture her and Gourry, and also why it had ultimately failed.

Deremar was the Lord, but not by birth. He had been a very successful merchant whose sole interest was buying books for his own personal collection. At his sister Monara's urgings, he had bought his way into the nobility, acquiring a minor title and this keep. His only motivation had been a safe and secure place to house his precious books. Monara's motivation, on the other hand, had been to increase her social standing. She had parlayed her brother's status to maneuver herself into marriage with an older lord who was having difficulty finding a woman to serve as step-mother to his beloved daughter. Lina snorted to herself. She could easily imagine that Lucilla had wrapped her father around her little finger. When the old lord had died, Monara had attempted to rule, but apparently there had been a coup by some distant relative, and she and Lucilla had fled to Deremar for sanctuary. Once firmly established in her brother's keep, Monara had set herself up as the Lady of the Keep. As far as Deremar was concerned, if it kept her happy and out of his hair, she could run the Keep. Between his books and the company of Lucilla, he had all his needs covered . . .

When the woman calling herself Lady Gisella Gabriev showed up in Fenwic, accompanied by her bodyguard, Erik Umkehrt, Monara had extended hospitality, and somehow convinced Deremar and Gisella to marry. Gisella agreed under one condition: the marriage would be one in name only. She spent her days at the Keep, but she kept her own room—specifically decorated to her design—at the inn, where she spent her nights. Monara had hoped the marriage would increase Deremar's—and thus her own—status. She had practically drooled over the prospect of marrying Lucilla to Gisella's missing son.

Things had started to go wrong for her at that point. First Gisella had taken over as Lady of the Keep. For the most part, Monara had commanded the servants of the Keep. They obeyed, and she was content with that. Until she saw how they treated Lady Gabriev, and how she treated them. Although a few servants remained loyal to Monara, her page Jeral being one, all were enraptured by Lady Gabriev. They grudgingly obeyed Monara. They loved and respected Gisella.

Then, Lucilla had fallen in love with Erik. She was so devoted to him, she had done anything he requested. Soon, Erik was the unspoken power in the Keep. He could get nearly anything he wanted, simply by offering Lucilla's company. Gisella had the loyalty of the servants, and Erik had control of the majority of the operating expenses of the Keep. Deremar had watched things unfold, although he had no desire to intervene. As long as he could still purchase books for his collection and share his bed with nubile young girls, he could care less who dealt with the day-to-day minutiae.

It explained a lot. Not everything, but a lot. Both Erik and Gisella had wanted to separate her and Gourry. Both Gisella and Lucilla had wanted her dead. Erik had wanted Gourry dead. Lina wondered if it had been Erik who had arranged for the tainted rye Gourry had eaten. She also wondered if Gisella had realized what she was doing to her "son." Maybe, maybe not. Gisella. Erik. Lucilla. Three people sharing mutual goals that allowed them to act in concert in some respects. But they also worked at cross-purposes where their objectives did not overlap.

"I've never seen anyone enjoy their food as much as you do, Lina," Deremar commented when she was about half-way through the meal. "It's almost obscene." He leaned forward, conspiratorially. "Which would you say you enjoy more? Food or sex?"

Lina paused in mid-bite, considering the question.

"Never mind," Deremar muttered in disgust, leaning back in his chair. "I'm going to have to talk to that young man of yours," he groused under his breath.

Lina gave him an acid look, as she resumed eating. "Leave Gourry alone," she said firmly between bites. Sad as it was, having more than one decent meal a day was a luxury she was not going to allow him to spoil.

"How about food _and_ sex?" he suggested slyly. "Or rather, food _with_ sex?"

It took all her willpower to swallow the food in her mouth instead of choking on it. She had the sudden _very_ vivid image of drizzling warm honey on certain parts of Gourry's anatomy and then . . . Her face flushed and she had to hold her breath against the sudden wave of desire that rushed through her, settling low in her belly.

"I'd offer a demonstration," he continued in that same sly tone, "but it seems you're not having any trouble visualizing."

Lina glared at him while she struggled to pull herself together. If not for the fact that she knew she would never make it down to the practice field without collapsing, she would have already been on her way to find Gourry. Her lack of energy was a definite problem. There had been that evening a few days ago when he had first helped her out of her dress . . . Just his hands running over her shoulders and down her back had her awash in sensual pleasure and yearning for more. Unfortunately, even before she was half-way undressed, she was fighting a losing battle against an overpowering desire to go back to sleep. The struggle between competing physical demands had brought her to the verge of tears, and of course when Gourry noticed, his demeanor had completely changed from aroused predatory male to nurturing protective male.

"Now Lucilla was a different story," Deremar mused, his eyes taking on a faraway look, "In spite of her naturally adventurous nature, I never could convince her to—" He broke off abruptly when a bread basket suddenly hit him right between the eyes.

"I. Don't. Want. To. Hear. About. _Her_." Lina bit out slowly, gripping the table so tightly her knuckles were turning white. She was afraid that if she let go, she would throw something else, and the only other things close to hand were heavy pieces of cutlery, porcelain plates, or large serving dishes, all of which were certain to cause injury. And even if she was seething with anger, she did like Deremar. Seriously hurting him was not on her list of things to do, today.

The silence stretched out as Deremar slowly put the empty bread basket back on the table. All traces of lecherous joviality had faded, and he looked at her with open concern. "You really do like your food, don't you?" he commented when she channeled her anger into cutting up her steak into tiny pieces.

Lina quirked an eyebrow in question.

"I mean, of all the non-lethal objects you could have thrown at me, you pick the bread basket. An apple could have done quite nicely as well to get your point across, you know." He picked up an apple off the fruit tray, tossed it up a few times, and then bit into it. "So what's got you all hot and bothered about Lucilla today?" he asked as he crunched a mouthful of apple.

"I'm _not_ 'all hot and bothered,'" Lina retorted, attacking her steak even more vigorously. "I'm just—" she broke off abruptly as the plate cracked in two under the pressure of her knife.

It was Deremar's turn to quirk an eyebrow as he glanced knowingly at her plate, but he wisely kept his silence and worked on his apple while Lina focused her full attention on the steak, taking great satisfaction in rending and tearing it with her teeth.

When she finally pushed back from the table, she felt simultaneously energized and drained. Her body wanted to sit and digest, maybe even take a nap. Her mind thought that she should be up and moving, doing something—_anything_—to distract her from Lucilla's last taunt.

Okay, maybe she was hot and bothered. Whether Lucilla had been lying or not, the thought of that girl in bed with Gourry . . . Oh, Lina was pretty sure Gourry would never knowingly sleep with Lucilla, and it had been easy to brush off the girl's comment at the time as catty jealousy.

That was before Gourry had told her about losing his grip on reality. Before she had heard Deremar wax poetic about her skills in bed. Now, it was all too believable that Lucilla had crept into Gourry's bed and . . .

"What was that about killing her slowly?" Deremar interrupted her train of thought.

"What?" Lina asked, trying to pick up the threads of the conversation.

"You said something about killing her if . . ." he trailed off, and then suddenly smacked his fist into the palm of his hand. "Ah! So you're the possessive type, aren't you, Lina?" he announced triumphantly.

Lina's eyes narrowed. "What, _exactly_, are we talking about?"

"Well," he drawled, "my guess is that we're talking about Lucilla and Gabriev."

Lina flinched.

"Looks like I guessed right!" he crowed.

Once again, Lina found herself clamping down, _hard_, on the urge to give into her violent impulses and throw things. "So," she said in a deceptively mild voice, "what do you know about Lucilla and Gourry?"

"Let's see," he replied in that same infuriating slow tone. "Gisella had Lucilla convinced that Gourry would marry her."

Lina nodded, waving her hand impatiently. That pretty much fit with what she had already guessed.

"That doesn't surprise you?" Deremar asked, looking more than a bit surprised himself.

"No," Lina answered. "Gourry heard two guys talking in a public bath. One guy said he thought you'd sacrificed Lucilla in some demonic ritual. The other guy thought she was marrying some Elmekian noble."

Deremar grunted in response. "I don't know where they got the 'demonic ritual' part of it—"

"They probably saw your antechamber," Lina interrupted with a snort.

"That was Monara's choice of décor," Deremar shot back, "_not_ mine."

"Really?" Lina asked, violent impulses and impatience forgotten. In the three days that she had been visiting Deremar, they had talked about many things. So far, _nothing_ had fazed him. She was surprised to find that he also had his sore points, and she filed that piece of information for future reference.

"Do you have any idea how much she paid for that tasteless crap?" he demanded indignantly. "I'd been saving those funds to buy a rare copy of _Inner Workings of the Monstrous Mind_!"

"It's not a very accurate book, you know," Lina pointed out reasonably. Apparently Deremar cared at least a little bit about the day-to-day minutiae, contrary to the impression he had given her the other day.

He gave her a long-suffering look. "That's _beside_ the point, Lina. It was reputed to be the _original_ text, in the author's own hand. Instead, I got a realistically carved jellyfish! Which would you rather have?" he demanded, pointing a finger at her. "An autograph copy of _Inner Workings_ or a jellyfish?"

"Jellyfish," Lina responded automatically.

Deremar stared at her. Opened his mouth. Closed it again. Took a deep breath. "The jellyfish," he repeated flatly.

"Yup," Lina answered with a grin. "Jellyfish is _mine_."

"Care to explain?"

"Nope," Lina replied and tried valiantly to stifle a huge yawn. She knew Deremar was confused, but her automatic response had at least made something clear in her own mind. What really bothered her about the possibility that Lucilla had slept with Gourry was that the other girl had taken something of hers. Something incredibly precious. That thought rankled. It also bothered her that her claim on Gourry was only tacit. She had been unsure the first time the thought had occurred to her, but now she wanted the wedding. Not because she thought it would change anything between them, but so the world would know that Gourry Gabriev belonged to her, to Lina Inverse.

Now if only the jerk would definitively propose, instead of asking her to boil him eggs or offering her his father's ring.

Now if only she could get through a day without needing nearly twenty hours of sleep.

"Sleepy?" Deremar asked, sounding surprised.

"Yeah," Lina admitted. "A bit." A lot, actually.

"Even after that lunch?" he pressed, gesturing to the nearly empty table.

"Yeah. Why?" she asked through yet another huge yawn.

He moved to her side, gripping her elbow and urging her to stand. "Care to eat the jellyfish?" he asked casually.

"Hmm," she murmured sleepily as she allowed him to lead her to one of the alcoves furnished with a couch. As tired as she was, she easily recognized his attempt to fish for more information. "As long as it's with honey," she said with a smile.

"Honey? With jellyfish?" He tucked a blanket around her as she curled up on the couch. "You've got strange taste, Lina."

"Hmm," she murmured again, barely hearing him move off. She lay in a delicious semi-doze, her mind filled with images of Gourry in various states of undress and the sweet taste of honey on her tongue.

It felt like only a few moments had passed before she felt Deremar shaking her shoulder and urging her to wake up. She forced groggy eyes open, feeling very thirsty. According to the angle of the light, it was near evening, which meant that her nap had lasted a lot longer than she had originally thought. "What is it?" she asked in a voice think with sleep.

Deremar thunked the book he was holding with the back of his hand. "I think I've found the solution to your problem," he said triumphantly.

* * *

Okay. This was not—definitely _not_—what he had expected to see when opening the door to the room he shared with Lina.

Gourry stood in the doorway, half in and half out of the room, wondering if he should back up, close the door and re-open it. Maybe then he would see something approximating normal. Instead, he shut his eyes firmly, took a deep breath, and took another look.

The same scene still greeted him.

He had thought nothing about Lina could surprise him more than walking in to find her putting on a fancy court dress.

Oh, he had been _so_ wrong.

The bed had been shoved into a corner, and most of the furniture the room boasted was perched precariously on the bed. The large open space created by this arrangement was mostly covered with a circle about four feet in diameter, made up of blue and white triangles, surrounded by a larger circle, also made up of blue and white triangles. Many of the triangles had some type of rune inscribed upon them. Lina lay in the center of the smaller circle, curled up on her right side, almost in a fetal position. Her hair and left foot were all that broke the boundary of the inner circle, which burned with a bluish translucent fire. The line of the outer circle burned with a similar flame.

Far more than wondering why, of all things, Lina was lying in the middle of a burning circle, Gourry wanted to know why she was lying in the middle of a burning circle without a stitch of clothing.

Instinct urged him to rush in and snatch her to safety—she was in the middle of burning fire, after all. Long experience warned him that interrupting Lina in the middle of magic was one of the stupidest things he could do—far more idiotic than comments about small breasts. With a sigh, Gourry pulled the door shut behind him, and leaned against the solid wood for a moment. Edging carefully against the wall, making every effort to avoid accidentally touching the perimeter of the circle or the dull blue flame, he moved over to the closest corner where he could sit on the floor and have a bit of space to stretch his legs. And then he waited for Lina to finish. He hoped she would be done soon, because he was hungry and the servants would be bringing up their food any moment. Somehow, he doubted it would be a good idea for them to walk in on this scene. On the other hand, he was not quite sure it was a good idea for him to have walked in on this scene, but now that he was here, there was no way he could leave. Just knowing that she was doing magic in her current state had him more than a bit agitated. She still had not regained full strength, and she still needed way more sleep than was decent.

This place had left indelible marks on them both. He stared at his maimed hands, wondering if he would ever regain even half of his former skill. Although muscle and stamina were slowly coming back, he still lacked the strength of grip even to cleave through a wooden dummy. It was a far cry from his former ability to slice through stone. Before their ordeal, Lina had been trim and firmly muscled. She was not quite the emaciated skeleton she had been the day he had confronted Erik, but she was still woefully out of condition. And as for magic . . . as far as he knew, this circle was her first real attempt since the day he had seen her erupt into flames for the second time.

He clenched his hands into fists, ignoring the familiar pain, and relived again the fury he had felt when he had realized what Erik had done to Lina. It was not in his nature to be vindictive. But if he had been at full strength when he faced Erik, he would have made the other man suffer. Pain and brief humiliation would not have been enough to satisfy the debt owed to Lina. Instead, Erik had died quickly, and not even by Gourry's hand, even if it had been a Gabriev weapon that delivered the blow.

Gourry stared at the main-gauche that leaned in the opposite corner of the room, alongside his armor and Gisella's dagger. Lina's equipment had disappeared. She knew about her clothes, but he did not yet have the heart to tell her that her beloved cloak was missing. His gaze flicked between the main-gauche and Lina's still form in the center of the circle. She looked like she was sleeping peacefully.

Enough. Gourry stood up abruptly and edged around the room to the opposite corner where the main-gauche waited for him. He had put this off long enough. Oh, he certainly had valid excuses. His concern for Lina had over-ridden all else, followed by the necessary removal of his fingers and subsequent recovery . . . it had been easy to push thoughts of the main-gauche out of his mind, put it off because now he had to watch over Lina, or work on the practice field . . . valid excuses . . . easy excuses . . . and that was _exactly_ what they were: excuses.

With practiced ease, Gourry removed the blade from the main-gauche and set it aside before upending the hilt. His eyes widened in surprise at the first object that fell out—so that was where his father's signet had gone. He pocketed the ring absently, most of his attention on the braid of hair that had followed the signet. He let out the breath he had not realized he was holding, but whether it was in shock or relief, he could not tell. Three dead strands—two corn-silk blond and one strawberry blond—one living strand.

An overwhelming sense of loss crashed through him, as he cradled the intricate braid in his hand. In his mind, he saw again the ruined hulk of his childhood home, saw raven-picked corpses wearing familiar uniforms marking them as servants of the Keep, and felt the insane anguish of having lost _everything_.

Lina had asked him about the braid, wondering what the point was. He knew that she had been frustrated with his lack of response, but how was he supposed to answer the question when he lacked the words to articulate meaning understood on a gut-level. It was tradition passed on for generations beyond memory, representing the pledge of a family to stand together and protect that which was valuable: the Sword of Light, certainly, but also each other. It was a symbol of how much stronger they became when braided and twined together, rather than standing separately. A ghost of a smile passed his lips when he remembered how much stronger the Sword of Light had become when it served as a vehicle for the spells of Lina, Zel, and Amelia.

It was also a symbol of weakness. One death, and strength became fragility. With the tip of his finger, he gently traced the three fragile strands as they twined around his own hair. He still remembered the day he had come of age, and his strand had been woven in. Strands that were added as children matured. Strands removed as the old passed on. The job of weaving and reweaving belonged to the oldest female relative, who would develop her own distinct pattern—

The thought ended abruptly as Gourry once again traced the strands, following the pattern and actually recognizing what his eyes were seeing. Two dead corn-silk strands twisted around each other in a simple rope that then intertwined with the other two strands. When he had watched his mother weave the hair together, each strand had been about the same thickness. Now, the hair of his father and brother together were just barely thicker than his own strand. And the pattern was too simple and awkward. Instead of flowing together and around each other, only to separate again, there were gaps where none should have been.

This was not the strand his mother had braided together when he had come of age.

He had been so distracted by the unexpected impossibility of seeing his mother's living hair that he had failed to see what was so plainly before his eyes. Clearly, someone had redone the plait. He could see broken strands of dead hair mingled in with the living, the broken strands that produced awkward gaps. Was it even his hair? Had he simply seen what he had expected to see?

Had he walked them into a custom-made trap because he had been too blind to see?

Suddenly the dull blue flame edging the two magical circles began to burn higher. He pressed himself back against the wall. Even he, with his total lack of magic ability, could recognize the gathering power within the room. The intensity of the flames increased, and they became increasingly opaque, forming a writhing dome-like structure that obscured all within. Just as it was starting to get hard to breathe, the flames gushed upwards, and Gourry hesitated briefly, torn between the desire to protect his head if the ceiling decided to come down, and the desire to place himself between Lina and harm. In that instant of hesitation, the flames disappeared.

Lina stood in the precise center of the circle, her eyes closed and her face down-cast. Her hands were clasped between her breasts, and her vibrant red hair swirled and whipped around her. Breathing ceased to be an option at that point, as the pressure in the room continued to mount. His ears ached, and he vainly placed his hands over them in an effort to protect them. And then, just as suddenly as the flames had disappeared, the pressure and sense of gathering magic power was gone.

While he stood gasping and feeling like very tiny prey that had just barely escaped a large and dangerous predator, Lina looked up and opened her eyes. "Fireball," she said softly.

The resulting explosion knocked him flat on his rear. It also destroyed a fair-sized chunk of the outer wall to their room. When he could finally hear over the ringing in his ears and see beyond the bright lights that danced merrily before his eyes, he noticed Lina whooping with glee and jumping about with abandon. She seemed oblivious to the fact that she—along with most of the room—was covered in stone dust and debris, that a mob of servants was pushing into the room to see what was going on, and most importantly from his perspective, that she was still completely naked.

"Lina!" he shouted in a vain attempt to be heard over the ringing in his ears and her celebrating.

He noticed one of the servants carrying a basket of linen, so he grabbed a sheet and wrapped it around her, just as she launched herself at him, flung both arms around his neck, and shouted, "Gourry, did you see that?"

Her exuberance was infectious, and he found himself grinning down at her. "Yes, Lina, I saw," he replied, hugging her close. "But . . ." he trailed off, gesturing at the large hole in their wall.

Lina huffed, closed her eyes briefly, and he watched as the wall suddenly seemed to lack all shape and definition. After a moment, she waved her hand dismissively, and the wall was once again complete. "There," she said smugly. "Problem solved!"

"That's a neat trick," he said with an absolutely straight face.

She gave him that familiar sharp look that always preceded a lecture. Then she took a deep breath, and he watched her hands curl up into fists. It amazed him that he could almost see what she was thinking. He clearly remembered her using the same technique to fix the wall he had busted down in the bath house, and obviously, she thought he should remember as well. Before she could launch into her tirade, he let his lips quirk in a slight smile.

He could actually see her thought process come to a screeching halt before moving quickly in a new direction. "Haven't I told you," she bit out from between clenched teeth, "that that is the _most_ annoying habit I have _ever_ seen IN MY ENTIRE LIFE?!" She emphasized her last words by pounding on his chest.

"Maybe," he replied with a barely suppressed grin, "but I wasn't paying attention."

"You are hopeless, Gourry Gabriev. Did you know that?" She was grimacing, but her tone was affectionate. "At any rate," she said loudly as her eyes flicked toward the servants who still milled about just outside the room, "yes, it is a neat trick, if I do say so myself. I may be known for tearing things down, but I can put them back together again." She paused briefly and then looked straight at the mob of servants. "If I choose."

Almost collectively, they flinched back from Lina's thinly veiled threat.

She smiled at them sweetly. "Thanks for bringing up our dinner," she said as she moved to relieve one of the servants of a heavily laden tray. He let it go so quickly she had to catch it before it unbalanced and tipped everything onto the floor. Her resultant glare, accompanied by a snarl, was enough to make him throw up his hands in a warding gesture and begin to back up slowly. Unfortunately, he ended up nearly tripping over the rest of the servants bunched up behind him. With a disgusted-sounding sigh, Lina closed the door in his face. "Get the table, Gourry," she directed while she balanced the heavy tray and nudged her toe at the sooty looking smear that was all that remained of the magic circle.

Gourry heaved a sigh of his own. Of course the table was near the bottom of a lot of precariously balanced furniture. "Why don't you put that down and help me?" he demanded as he struggled to move an overstuffed armchair without toppling the entire pile.

"Because it's more fun this way?"

He snarled in response.

"Okay, okay," she said placatingly as she placed the tray on the floor. "I was just kidding, you know."

"How did you get all this stuff up here in the first place?" he asked, finally freeing the armchair and starting to work on a dresser.

"It wasn't easy, that's for sure," Lina said dryly as she moved to help with the other side of the dresser.

Working together, they quickly put the room into some semblance of order. Even so, the food was mostly cold by the time they finally sat down to eat. Neither of them complained. Gourry knew he was incredibly hungry, and judging from the ferocity with which Lina tore into her food, she was too. Her snarls when he impinged upon her territory were far more vicious than normal. Not that it stopped him from reaching over periodically to snitch her food. Fair was fair after all.

"So," he said slowly as she picked up the stray crumbs that were the sole remains of their meal by pressing her finger against them. "Do I want to ask?"

Her eyebrow quirked a bit, and she grimaced. "If I explain it to you, are you going to understand? Are you even going to listen?" she asked as she licked the crumbs off her finger and started scavenging for more.

He thought about it for a moment. "Probably not," he answered honestly. He held up a finger to forestall her snarl. "I do like to hear you talk, though," he continued. "Even if I don't really pay attention."

The look she gave him was inscrutable. And then she launched into a long discussion filled with obscure terms relating to female cycles, magical lay lines, and a host of other things that generally went straight over his head. Her words washed over and around him, like the swirl of ocean waves. Meaningless sound, but somehow comforting at the same time, with ever-changing rhythm and pitch. He just sat there watching her as she talked, watched the play of expression over her face as her eyes lost all focus, fixed on something only she could see.

There was a vibrancy about her that had been lacking recently. She seemed fully alert and tightly focused, and at the same time fully relaxed, rather than dulled and lethargic.

"So what you're saying," he interrupted with a grin when she paused briefly for a breath, "is that you're fully recovered."

"What I'm _saying_, yogurt-for-brains, is that I'm _better_ than recovered." She considered, and then pushed back from the table. "Watch," she commanded as she stood.

He watched her move to the center of the room. She stood calmly, eyes closed for a moment. A non-existent breeze fluttered around her, twining through tendrils of hair and stirring the folds of her robe. She was beautiful. And dangerous.

"_Sword of darkness  
Release yourself from the Heaven's bonds  
Become one with my body  
One with my power  
And let us walk the path of destruction together  
Power to smash even the souls of gods!  
Ragna Blade!_"

The instant he recognized the words, he had stood up so fast, he had knocked his chair over. He had seen her use this spell several times, but only under situations of great duress. Even after spending time with the Claire Bible, she still could barely control the spell . . . But this time . . . he watched as energy blacker than the deepest pitch gathered in her hands, crackled incandescently as it twisted and writhed in a vaguely sword-like shape . . . and then suddenly resolved itself into a distinct black blade. Lina swung it a few times, her face twisted in concentration, and he heard the whistle of steel slicing the very fabric of the air. And then her hands were suddenly empty.

Lina collapsed to her knees, breathing heavily, but she flashed him a grin and held up her fingers in the "Victory" sign. "Did you see?" she asked between gasps. "I still can't maintain it long, but I can hold the shape now, and that even without my talismans!" Her eyes snapped with excitement. "Just imagine what I can do _with_ the talismans!"

"Are you _insane_?!" he shrieked the instant he was sure his voice would not crack. He had seen her cough up blood after casting that spell. His heart was still thumping crazily in his chest, although he could not tell if it was out of shock from her pulling a crazy stunt like that, anger because she risked losing her strength and vitality so soon after regaining it, or terror from being so close to that dark energy and its association with life-or-death struggles. "What in hell's name do you think you're doing casting that spell in here?!"

"Don't be mad, Gourry," she said with a fake pout. "At least I didn't try a Blast Bomb. I was pretty sure I could control the blade," she added with a careless shrug.

"Pretty sure?" his voice cracked on the last word.

She made a moue in response. "I wanted to test it, okay?" She glanced around the room. "And I didn't want to wait, either. I needed to feel how a high-powered spell would work for me." Now her gaze settled on him. "Would you have preferred I tried the Dragon Slave instead?" she asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"You could've at least warned me, you know," he groused, reluctantly letting go of shock, anger and terror. After all, Lina just would not be Lina without crazy antics and ridiculously overpowered magic. There was certainly no lack of excitement in her company . . .

"I could have," she agreed solemnly, "But I didn't think you'd be paying attention anyways. This way, I was pretty sure I could get your full attention!"

He watched as her breathing slowed, returned to normal. Saw the fire snapping in her eyes, the confident strength, and the desire to protect her from harm receded a bit, while a rather different desire—one that he had suppressed for too long of late—kindled low in his belly. "So," he purred, "you're fully recovered."

She glanced at him sharply as she stood and made her way to one of the overstuffed chairs. "I thought we just established that, didn't we?"

He intercepted her before she reached her destination, sweeping her off her feet and into his lap. "You have my attention, Lina," he purred. He pinned both her hands against his chest and tugged at the neckline of her robe, easing it over one of her shoulders. "My _full_ attention," he murmured against her skin while he nuzzled at her neck.

"Gourry! Stop that!" She struggled ineffectually against him, trying to free her hands, while she shrugged a shoulder up to her ear, denying him easy access. "I can't talk to you while you're doing that!" Her gasp modulated into a mewling sound when he shifted his attention to the other side of her neck while slipping his free hand under her robe to cup her breast. "Gourry!" A breathless plea.

He pulled back and looked directly into her eyes. They were already taking on the glassy look of arousal he knew was mirrored in his own, but underlying the arousal was a hint of fear. "What, Lina?" he asked as he gently released her wrists, his fingers rubbing over scars left by manacles and wire. She shuddered, fear and desire swirling in her eyes and fighting for dominance. Not fear of him. It was fear of her memories coming between them. He held her gaze with his own while he shifted her body on his lap. Instead of cradling her in his arms, he turned her so that she knelt, her thighs straddling his legs, his hands resting on her shoulders beneath her robe while his fingers lightly stroked the sides of her neck. "What, Lina?" he repeated. With his eyes, he surrendered to her will. With his hands, he claimed her as his own.

Fear receded slowly from her eyes. He forced himself to wait patiently. Her eyes flicked in and out of focus, as she alternated between staring at the space just beside his head and searching his face for something.

Finally she sighed, and he was not sure if she had found what she was looking for, nor if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She had clearly made some type of decision though.

"Did I ever tell you that I love you?" she asked. And then, with a wicked grin she laced her fingers together, raised her arms over her head and arched her back in a lazy stretch that completely defied the ability of the robe to keep her modest.

Gourry had no idea he had stopped breathing until she brought her still-laced hands down to rest between them, and blood starting roaring in his ears as it was hastily redirected elsewhere. The fear he had seen earlier in her eyes was completely gone. Now the desire mingled with mindless lust. Her hair shimmered as a curtain between them as she slid up his thighs to press against him, and the sound of her moans was nearly enough to destroy any remaining rational thought.

It was incredibly erotic to watch her move against him, feeling himself tethered between her thighs, surrendering to her control. So easy to just lose himself in the moment . . .

Surrender.

And Claim.

Having Lina's body was not enough. Having Lina's love was not enough. He needed _more_.

More? More than body and love?

Yes. More.

In the moment she arched backward, her head thrown back, her face contorted in a silent scream of ecstasy, he understood. And he thought maybe, just maybe, he now knew the words to make her understand as well.

Just before she collapsed like a limp ragdoll against his chest, he pulled his father's signet ring out of his pocket and slipped the thong from which it still hung around her neck. And waited. For her to come back to herself. For her to ask the question.

It was both an eternity and an all-too brief moment later when she raised her head. He watched as she looked down at the signet that hung low between her breasts. He waited as she picked it up and inspected it. "Your father's signet," she said quietly, her voice neutral. It was not a question.

"Yes," he responded.

She looked up into his eyes, and the welter of emotions he saw took him by surprise. Her own surprise. Happiness. A hint of fear and anger. Hope. And annoyance. "Why?" Just one word. So much meaning in that one word. _This_ was the question.

"I want you," he said simply.

Her eyes glinted dangerously. "Don't you already have me?" she asked gesturing at her exposed body, still glistening with sweat and afterglow.

"I have your body. I have your love." He made his words a verbal caress. "I want more."

"More." She avoided his gaze, instead studying the ring, tracing the design of raised niello.

"You know that I've promised to follow you for the rest of my life." Gourry paused, and she nodded in acknowledgement. "I want you. I want to be _bound_ to you. I want you to be bound to _me_." He paused again. "I want you to be mine. Forever."

She looked up at him then, that same conflicting welter of emotions in her eyes. "Are you proposing to me?" she asked quietly.

Gourry wanted to howl in frustration. Somehow she had missed the point of what he was asking. Instinct, however, told him that his next words would be key. "If that's what you want, Lina," he finally answered. "But I want _more_."

She cocked her head to one side, considering. Understanding slowly dawned in her eyes, wiping away the doubt, fear, and wariness. "More," she whispered, her voice a caress.

He waited. Watched as her eyes unfocused. She sat motionless on his lap, gazing at nothing behind him. And he waited.

Finally, she stirred. She stood up and gazed about the room, until her eyes came to rest on the main-gauche. A tiny smile played around her lips as she stood and picked up the separated hilt and blade, fitting them back together. Gourry watched her use the blade to cut a small section of hair from her head and run it through her hands a few times. She looked quite pleased with herself when she turned back to face him. "Hold out your hand," she commanded.

Slowly, he stood so that he was facing her, and offered her his hand. She wrapped her hand around his wrist, and his fingers naturally closed around hers, linking their two arms together. With her free hand, she wrapped her hair over and around their hands and arms, binding them together. When she finished, she closed her eyes for a moment, and he felt a non-existent breeze swirling about them both.

"Everything that I am," she said solemnly as she stared into his eyes, "I give to you." A brief pause. "All that you are, I claim for myself." Another brief pause.

The breeze intensified, and he felt a warm heat surrounding their linked hands.

"Forever." As she spoke that word, the breeze died away, along with the warmth that had seeped into his arms. "You'll never be free of me now, Gourry," she chirped gleefully as she let go of his hand.

He looked down in confusion. If she had tied their hands together, how could she have let go so easily?

The hair that had bound them together was gone. In its place, a deep red line the same color as Lina's hair snaked around his arm. A quick glance confirmed that she was similarly marked. He traced the line on his arm with the tip of his finger. To the touch, the skin felt no different. But his arm still felt the clasp of Lina's fingers around his wrist. It reminded him a bit of the ghost pains in his fingers, except much more pleasant. It marked him as hers. It was more than pleasant. It was _wonderful_.

Surrender. And claim. Hers.

Without speaking, Gourry picked up the main-gauche and cut a section of hair from his own head, quickly plaiting it. Wordlessly, she held out her un-marked arm to him, and watched as he bound them together. Again he felt that ineffable breeze as he gazed into her eyes and spoke his own pledge. "I bind myself to you, Lina Inverse," he said fervently. "And I bind you to me. You'll never be free of me. Ever."

"Is that 'more' enough for you, Gourry?" Lina asked after the warmth had faded.

He looked down and traced the golden cornsilk pattern that twined around her arm. For a moment, all he could do was look at her. The robe still hung off her shoulders and was open in the front. His father's signet fell low between her breasts. And both her arms were marked with a pledge. Her promise to him. And his to her. "Yes, Lina," he answered happily as he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. "It's exactly what I wanted."

"Good," she said through a yawn muffled on his shoulder. "But I still want the wedding. And the ring."

"You already have the ring," he replied as he shucked out of his own clothing.

"Not this ring," she smiled at him coyly as she traced a finger down along the thong.

"But—"

"Don't worry," she said quickly. "I'm keeping this one. I want the _other_ ring."

He looked at her blankly, most of his ability to string two coherent thoughts together impeded by her finger stroking along the thong.

"The _diamond_ ring, Gourry," she purred as she crawled across the bed toward him, shedding the robe behind her. "You'll get me one, won't you?"

She was beautiful. Sexy. Manipulative. Dangerous. And _his_.

He mumbled something incoherent in response, knowing that she would hold him to it later, regardless of what he said. It hardly mattered. For the moment all he cared about was pressing his own claim to her body.

* * *

AN: Yes, I know it's been a year since my last update. Yes, I also know there are people who thought I'd go the way of Flarn's _Ignominious End_ and never finish this story. It has always been (and remains) my intention to finish this story. First, though, I had to finish an absolutely hellish year, in which I was already over-committed and stupidly took on even more responsibilities. Real life took precedence over fan-fiction. The good news is that I survived the year intact! But it was literally April before I could even _think_ about FG, when the opening lines of the chapter suddenly occurred to me while I was waiting for my daughter's orchestra concert to start (or maybe it was my son's concert . . . we went to about 6 concerts in the space of 4 weeks . . .)

Flarn has been much on my mind as I've written the last few chapters. She once told me that her intention with IE was to dig Lina into the deepest possible hole, just so see if she could get her out again, and I think that idea has influenced me more than a bit in the darker sections. Wherever she is, I sincerely hope that she is well, above all else.

There is just one more scene in this story that I still need to write. This particular scene has been in my mind ever since this story became something more than a simple "let's get Lina and Gourry together" plot. Although I _can_ say that I've already started work on the Epilogue, I can't promise it will be ready and posted before next summer.


	17. Epilogue

Epilogue

They paused, just before cresting a verdant hill. Tall grasses rustled in the errant breeze, adding to the hum of various insects lurking out of sight. Lina squinted at the sun while absently swatting at tiny flies that seemed to love buzzing around her head. Although they had been walking for several hours, the sun was just barely past its zenith. "What do you say we make an early camp," she suggested, as she trampled down some grass and sat. "Go in tomorrow, first thing."

Gourry considered as he pushed his hair out of his face. "What? Lina Inverse hesitating about attacking a bunch of bandits?" he teased. "What about your reputation?"

Lina hurled a water skin at him, aiming for his gut. "This has nothing to do with the bandits," she bit out vituperatively. "And you know it!"

The teasing light faded from his eyes as he easily snagged the water skin out of the air. He took a few swallows and then dropped the skin next to her. Without saying a word, he walked the few remaining steps to the crest of the hill and stared into the valley on the other side. "I want them out of there," he said angrily, his hands curling into fists. "You _know_ that. We've been planning this for days."

Oh yes. She knew. And she understood too. Finding out about the bandits had initially seemed like a bonus to the plan she had been quietly hatching ever since they had left Sairaag. For once, she could raid bandits and Gourry would probably cheer her on instead of being dragged into the thick of things. But the more she thought about it, the closer they came to execution, the more it left a bad taste in her mouth.

And there was no real reason that it should.

Exhaling a silent sigh, she pillowed her chin on her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs, and watched Gourry. He stood with his back to her, radiating agitation and impatience. "Okay," she capitulated. "We'll do it today. But I need a minute or two." And he did, as well.

"I can wait a minute," he said as he turned back towards her. "Or two. But not more." He pulled his sword free from its sheath and began to move through his warm-up routine.

Lina watched him, admiring his grace and quiet strength. Her eyes traced the red and gold patterns etched into his arms and then lingered on his hands. It had not been easy, nor had it been quick, but he had ten fingers again. Every time Lina saw Gourry wield his sword with confidence, instead of wincing against the weakness of his grip, she knew that time and effort had been well worth it.

It had been easy to convince Gourry to go to Sairaag. The day after she had finally recovered her magical ability, Deremar had given her a box containing the "personal" items from Erik's room. The only thing out of the entire collection that seemed to have belonged to Erik was a small ledger book bound in brown leather. It had taken her days to nerve herself up to read the thing. Even now, she half-wished that she had left well enough alone, as the book detailed almost all of her movements since she had left home, with information categorized as rumor or confirmed and complete records of his sources. Naga's name had cropped up quite a few times, much to Lina's annoyance, although she had to admire the prices Naga had managed to extort for her information. There were other familiar names as well, including the noble Hallas she had agreed to fake-marry, and the twin sisters Mimi and Nene. Many of the names meant little to her: a varied assortment of innkeepers, waitresses, and mayors of towns she had helped to save, as well as a couple she had helped destroy—only from collateral damage, of course.

It bothered her that most of it was so accurate. Erik had tracked her for years, and the knowledge that she had been so consistently scrutinized made her feel strangely vulnerable.

The book also contained several scenarios for separating her from her companions, as well as plans for dealing with any male who crossed her path: primarily Ryan and Gourry, but surprisingly they also included Xellos. Apparently, a certain princess from Zoana had blabbed about Xellos kissing her once. Lina wished Erik had tried some of his plans on Xellos. She doubted he would have had much success with the trickster priest. On the other hand . . . maybe it was better that Xellos and Erik had never met. With her luck, Xellos would have decided to help Erik . . .

To her relief, the box had also contained her cloak, talismans, and the dagger she had started carrying about a year after she and Gourry had been together. For the most part, she focused on the relief she felt that her cloak and talismans had escaped the wrath of Deremar's servants, while trying to ignore the fact that Erik had confiscated everything of hers that had any meaning. It just served to underscore how much he had known about her, and that was _really_ disturbing.

The remaining items included the tapestry Gourry had stolen, a small book bound in black leather that Lina remembered finding in the bedside table in Gisella's room, and a red gem with a very distinctive angular cut.

Suddenly, several pieces of the puzzle had neatly slotted together. Lina had no idea why Gisella would have kept the gem—she was guessing that it was one of Eris's mind-control gems, although she was not completely sure. If Gisella had been a copy, it would certainly explain a lot. But before she was going to offer such an explanation to Gourry, she wanted something more definite than a mind-control gem and a dagger bearing an emblem that blended elements of the Gabriev device with that of Rezo the Red Priest.

All she had to do was tell Gourry she wanted to go to Sairaag because she thought there were answers about Gisella there, and he was ready to pack and start out on the road. He never really said anything about it, but she knew that his encounter with Gisella had shaken him to the core. She had known that ever since he had shown her the dagger they had planned to bury with Gisella, pointing to the part that resembled the Gabriev insignia. Gourry needed answers, but since he had no clue how to find them, he was asking her to do it for him.

The fact that there were potential answers in Sairaag had made it so much easier. She had fully intended to seek out Sylphiel to see if the shrine maiden could regenerate Gourry's missing fingers. Theoretically, such a healing should be possible. After all, Siebert seemed to think it could work, and if Sylphiel had been able to restore Flagoon after the great tree had been destroyed by the Copy Rezo's spell, Gourry's fingers should be child's play in comparison. Still, like half-formed guesses about Gourry's mother, Lina wanted to be certain before she suggested it. The thought of offering Gourry a hope that might turn out to be false . . . She was pretty sure Gourry could handle the disappointment, but she doubted her own pride would survive as well.

Their journey to Sairaag had been largely uneventful. The imperial government of Lyzeille had rebuilt much of the city, and it boasted wide boulevards and many of the latest amenities , including a large park that marked the site where Flagoon—and coincidentally Hellmaster's fortress—had stood, a covered amphitheater, and a hippodrome for horse racing.

Sylphiel had greeted them warmly, insisting that they stay with her. Lina had protested, thinking it would be quite awkward to explain that she and Gourry were together now, but Sylphiel had played dirty, appealing to Gourry's love of her home cooking, and Lina's skinflint nature. Lina was not sure if she was miffed or relieved that no explanations had been necessary. It had been a bit strange watching Gourry and Sylphiel interact. It was as if nothing had changed between them, and after Lina thought about it, she realized that nothing _had_ changed between them. At any rate, Lina had never really felt threatened by the other woman's open affection for Gourry. She still remembered that Sylphiel had saved her from the Copy Rezo, as well as her kindness and support when they had faced Hellmaster.

In the end, regenerating Gourry's fingers had been long and torturous, mainly because they had already healed naturally from the amputation. It hurt that there was so little she could do for him throughout the painful process. Instead, she put most of her energy into ransacking Rezo's labs just outside Old Sairaag. At least that was something she could do to help.

Rezo's labs were in surprisingly good shape, considering that she, Gourry, Amelia, Zelgadis, and Sylphiel had busted through most of its defenses. She supposed the depths of the labs might have been a sufficient deterrent to common thieves.

Rezo and his various assistants had been rather meticulous about recording details, and Lina found answers to several questions. According to Rezo's personal journal, he had personally led the assault on Gabriev Keep. Although his motive had been to acquire the Sword of Light, the official version of the story was that he was purging a great evil from the Keep. The fact that there were no known survivors, meant there was no one to contradict his version of events.

The snatches she had heard from Gourry had been inadequate to prepare her for what she read in Rezo's records about Gabriev Keep, and it was quite clear that the Great Sage and virtuous priest had already adopted an "ends justify the means" mentality that he used to excuse his methods. From Lina's perspective, those who died in the initial assault were the lucky ones. The rest had been imaginatively brutalized in the presence of the Lord and Lady of the Keep to induce them to talk. Gourry's mother had been forced to watch the torture, maiming, and eventual deaths of her husband and son because it had been revealed that she had been the one to send a servant to deliver the Sword of Light to Gourry. The horrors that Lady Gabriev had endured were enough to give Lina nightmares, and she swore to herself she would never tell Gourry the full story of how his mother had been tortured to death. Rezo had broken her body and her mind, but in spite of everything, Lisielle's will had held, and she took her knowledge of the Sword of Light's whereabouts to the grave.

Rezo had thought it was a stroke of pure fortune when they discovered samples of hair within the main-gauche. From earlier experiments with chimeras and copies, Rezo and Eris knew they could create a full copy—one that carried both the skills and the memories of the original. The only drawback to a full copy was that they tended to be mentally unstable. Gisella had been an intense disappointment. She shared Lisielle's memories up to the point when the hair sample had been taken several years earlier. In his paranoia and desperation, Rezo had Lisielle's copy tortured just to make sure she was being honest about her memories. The last record Lina could find regarding Gisella was a short note that her sanity had shattered more quickly than expected.

She was able to confirm Deremar's suspicion that Rezo and the Gabrievs were related, although the relationship went back so many generations to be nearly meaningless. Lina was looking forward to the next time they met up with Zelgadis. Gourry had been thrilled to find out that he still had living relations, no matter how distant. She could already picture Zel choking on his coffee when Gourry called him "cousin."

She had also learned exactly why her capacity for magic had so dramatically increased. It was a bit sobering to realize that she probably _could_ cast the Blast Bomb now, even without the Demon's Blood Talismans, a feat that had only been accomplished by Lei Magnus, the legendary sage who had harbored a fragment of Shabranigdu within him. Deremar and his library offered an incomplete explanation as to why she had been unable to reclaim her full magical ability, as well as the solution. Thanks to Eris's work with chimeras and copies, the records in Rezo's lab provided full theoretical underpinnings, based on extensive research.

For most people, magical ability was tied to puberty. Hers had been awoken much too early before she had the strength and maturity to fully control it. Luna and her mother had taught her the discipline, but knowingly or not, they had also trained her so that she could not tap into her full strength. Her pre-pubescent body had lacked the proper channels to align with the magical power, which was the main reason she had spontaneously burst into flame. The magic did not know where to go, so to speak. Luna and her mother had helped her form channels, but they were artificial, rather than natural. The best analogy was to compare a canal with a river. Water could run very swiftly through a canal, but it would never have the same wild force as a river flowing through a natural bed.

Even after puberty, Lina had continued to use the artificial pathways to channel her magic, not really knowing any differently. However, for whatever reason, becoming sexually active had weakened the canals, and the magic had started to move towards her natural pathways. That explained why some of her magic had felt different. She had first noticed it when she cast recovery on Gourry after escaping from the botched lynching attempt. It also explained why suddenly she was able to use her magic much more creatively. She had always been interested in developing alternative versions of common spells—her breaking and rebounding fireballs were two variants of which she was particularly proud—but it had always taken a lot of effort, a lot of trial and error, and a lot of frustration before she had achieved workable results.

The fact that her magic was transitioning from artificial toward natural channels also explained why Erik had been unable to seal her completely. Instead of using magic the way she was accustomed, she had unknowingly been forcing new pathways. Multiple little pathways, in fact. When she had broken Erik's seal, the magic had flooded through her, nearly burning her out in the process. With too many channels, her body had not known where to focus its energy for rebuilding, which explained her long recovery process.

As she had tried to explain to Gourry, she needed to discover the exact location of her natural channels, which was best accomplished by aligning herself with the natural ley lines of the earth. The next step had been to strengthen those natural paths, which required the amplification of a magic circle.

About the only thing she had not managed to discover in Sairaag was why Gisella blamed her for the destruction of Gabriev Keep.

Lina knew there was no basis in Gisella's accusations. She knew it was stupid to be so concerned about what an insane—not to mention dead—woman thought. And yet she still could hear the venomous hatred in Gisella's voice as she claimed vengeance and retribution. She could still see her triumphant expression as she plunged her dagger into Lina's chest. She could still feel the pain—the physical sensation of multiple lacerations was nothing compared to the knowledge that the mother of the man she loved was trying to kill her.

She hated the thought of attacking Gabriev Keep, even to clear it of bandits, because it made her remember that feeling of complete rejection. She still remembered wondering how she could possibly tell Gourry that his mother died trying to kill her.

Gourry finished his warm-up routine and took a deep cleansing breath, and then he walked over to her, holding out a hand to help her up. "I never believed Gisella's accusations," he reminded her softly.

It still surprised her on occasion how accurately he could read her.

Lina studied him even as she allowed him to pull her up. Impatience and agitation were gone, and he was once again the calm imperturbable swordsman. "I know," she answered, squashing her misgivings. "C'mon. There are bandits down there that need to taste the Inverse brand of justice!"

They crested the hill together, and Lina had her first glimpse of the ruined hulk of Gourry's ancestral home that now served as the base of a nasty group of bandits who had been terrorizing the countryside. According to the rumors, the Emperor of Elmekia had placed quite a tidy bounty on this gang, enough to entice several bounty hunters and justice freaks. So far, the bandits had proved undefeatable. That was about to change. Lina dismissed all thoughts of Gisella's accusations and the uncomfortable knowledge that she was about to give truth to what had before been a lie. She only allowed herself to think of the bandits, and the sweet taste of victory that would soon be hers, not to mention all their loot _plus_ the rumored reward. After all, she was fighting bandits, not destroying and torturing a family.

"Fireball!" she shouted, issuing her challenge and sending out the opening volley.

Bandits swarmed out of innumerable hiding places, each of them armed to the teeth and ready to fight. They laughed when they saw that they were attacked only by a small girl and a swordsman, and like any group of over-confident men, they zeroed in on Gourry first, thinking him the greater threat. Lina wasted little time disabusing them of that particular notion.

All in all, the bandits provided so little challenge, Lina half wondered if the rumors about a reward were just that. They certainly did not seem to rate the attention of the Emperor of Elmekia. With her luck, the bandits themselves were the source of the rumor—probably some lame attempt to increase their reputation or something. Their only advantage seemed to be their numbers, but the way they streamed out of various parts of the keep like lemmings made them ridiculously easy pickings.

Lina felt almost cheated as she shot off a couple weak fireballs to chase down the few who demonstrated some modicum of intelligence and decided to flee. All that angsting, and they could not even provide a decent challenge. She nudged the body of one of the leaders with her foot, looking in vain for anything of value while Gourry wiped his sword on the tunic of one of the less crisped bandits. At least they were good for _something_.

Turning in a slow circle, she assessed the layout of the keep and bailey, locating the most likely places for loot stockpiles. She could see why the bandits made this place their base of operations. It was sizeable enough to house a large band, and it also provided some measure of defense, ruined though it was. Had the bandits been smarter, they would have holed up in the keep, rather than rushing out, confident that their superior numbers would give them an advantage. Not that the keep would have saved them indefinitely. At best, it would have bought them a little more time. Still, Lina was glad there had been no need to target the keep specifically.

Two competing desires warred within her. Standard operating procedure dictated that the first order of business was to hunt for stragglers and locate the treasure pile. Given the size of the place, Lina was seized by the paranoid fear that someone would sneak up behind her and make off with the best stuff. Unfortunately, this was not just any bandit camp. This was also Gourry's childhood home. It was a place filled with powerful and excruciatingly painful memories.

When they had heard the rumor that Gabriev Keep was serving as a base of operations for a bandit gang, Gourry had been so quiet that at first Lina had wondered if he had actually heard anything that had been said. She had been on the verge of elbowing him hard to get him to pay attention, when he had casually asked her how she felt about taking a trip to Elmekia. He had seemed calm enough, but Lina had caught the tight clench of his jaw and the fire burning in his eyes. She had agreed, grateful for the excuse, as she had been wracking her brains, trying to come up with a legitimate reason to get them to Gabriev Keep without raising his suspicions. Intuitively, she understood that Gourry would never be able to put his encounter with Gisella behind him until he returned to his childhood home. As much as he seemed to have a brain with the retention powers of a sieve, she knew this was not something easily forgotten, even if he never talked about it, aside from that one day when he walked in on her trying on Lucilla's dresses.

Find the treasure? Or stand by Gourry as he faced all those memories? Well, there was an easy way to do both.

Gourry stood in the center of the bailey, staring at what was left of the keep. Lina closed the distance between them and slipped her arm through his. He smiled down at her absently, but clearly he was not completely distracted as he reached over with his free hand to wipe a bit of soot off her cheek. "I thought you'd be hunting out their treasure stash by now," he said quietly.

She shrugged noncommittally. "I will. I was kind of hoping you'd show me around first, though."

"Really?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

"What's wrong with that?" she shot back, feeling rather miffed that he thought she would choose treasure over him. Especially when she could have both. "Is it so surprising that I want to see the place where you grew up?"

Gourry turned to face her, giving her a very piercing look, the one that made her want to squirm. "Why?" he finally asked.

"Do I have to have a reason?" she retorted, putting on her best expression of injured innocence. "I just wanted a simple little tour. You don't have to make it seem so complicated."

"Lina," he said in a no-nonsense tone, "nothing you do is ever 'simple.'" He paused, considering. "And I can't believe you just accused _me_ of complicating things."

"Alright, fine," she said with a pout. "I'll tell you why _after_ I get my tour."

"Aha!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "So you _do_ have a reason."

"Fine, okay?" she responded impatiently. "You're very clever. And if you want an explanation—"

"Oh, I don't know," he interrupted, waving his hand self-deprecatingly. "I've never been the curious one. And some explanation that's likely to go right over my head doesn't sound like something—Ow!"

The last was in response to her pounding her fists against his chest. She glared up at him when he captured her hands in his, but it faded quickly when she saw the bittersweet smile on his lips.

"I just wish you could've seen it before . . ." He trailed off, his eyes going once again to the ruined keep.

The tour he gave her was a macabre mixture of endearing childhood memories and the horror that he had found the last time he had been here. He showed her the small gurgling creek beyond the bailey where he, his brother, and the other children of the keep had sailed toy boats, and told her about how when they were bored they would make balls out of the muddy clay and hurl them at each other, and how that always got them into trouble with the grown-ups.

He showed her the place where he had found his father's and brother's hands and heads mounted, and told her that they had been so ravaged by the carrion-eaters that the only way he could identify them was by the long blond hair on the ground beneath them.

She saw the kitchens, and he started describing how he would sneak down to snitch food. All the while, she tried to avoid looking at the long central table and the large grease stains that looked eerily human in shape. Gourry broke off his story and glanced over at the tables. His jaw tightened and he swallowed hard before he took her by the hand and led her up a back flight of stairs and into what was obviously a bedroom, although the only things that remained were the frame of a large bed and small assorted bric-a-brac. Lina picked up a small wooden sword that had been tossed carelessly by the fireplace and swung it experimentally. She had thought it to be a toy, but upon closer inspection, she realized that it was more in the nature of a practice weapon made for a child.

"Yours?" she asked, as she balanced it on her finger, seeking the point of equilibrium.

"Yeah," he responded, taking the sword from her. "I used to sleep with it," he said with a smile as his fingers ran over the smooth wood edges. "Drove my mother crazy when I came down with the imprint of the hilt in my cheek."

"You slept with a wooden sword?" Lina demanded, and then she sighed. "Why does that not surprise me?"

"Well, yeah," he replied. "A swordsman should always have a weapon at hand, right?" He laughed as he ran a hand through his hair. "At least, that's what I heard the guards saying! What did you sleep with?"

Lina blushed, remembering the rag doll Luna had made for her. Not only had she slept with it, she had also dragged it everywhere she went. "Just a doll," Lina said defensively.

"Huh," Gourry responded in surprise. "That's so . . . _normal_. I'd have thought you'd slept with wild animals, the way you thrash around—"

"_Normal_?" Lina interjected indignantly. "I _was_ normal! Until—" She broke off abruptly, biting her lower lip.

"Until Erik," Gourry said with soft malevolence, instinctively tightening his grip on the wooden sword.

"Until Erik," Lina repeated with a sigh. She leaned against the bed frame for support. "It hurts," she said simply. "Remembering hurts. But," she held up a finger to stop Gourry from interrupting, "it's a part of who I am. And that I can't regret," she said with firm conviction.

"A part of who you are?" he echoed, looking confused.

"Can you imagine me married with kids, tending to a store?" she asked.

Gourry snorted in response.

"But that's exactly what I'd be doing right now if things had been different," she continued evenly. "That's not who I am any more. But I could have been."

His brow furrowed, and she could see him trying to process what she had just said. She was so tempted to make a clever comment about his lack of mental prowess, but she restrained herself with difficulty.

"'Could have,'" she said softly, hoping he would understand. "'Should have.' 'Would have.' Those are words of regret, spoken about a past that can't be changed. If you spend all your time focusing on what can't be changed, you become obsessed, and it makes you less. Like the Copy Rezo who destroyed Sairaag in his quest to change the reality that he was a copy. Like Erik." She shook her head. "I won't live like that."

"Is that why you wanted a tour?" he asked.

"Part of it," she said seriously. "A lot of who you are is tied up in this place," she made a wide gesture meant to take in the entire keep.

Gourry grimaced. "I knew it would be an explanation that mostly went over my head," he said wryly.

"Well, 'mostly' is better than 'entirely,' I suppose," Lina muttered in annoyance.

"C'mon," he held out his hand to her. "There's still more to see."

The sun was low on the horizon when he led her into a half-ruined room that looked like a small chapel, for all that it lacked a central altar or obvious devotional space. Heavy granite benches were scattered about in no obvious pattern. Some had clearly been knocked over.

"What is this place?" Lina whispered reverently. For all that it was small and ruined, it reminded her a bit of the large temple she had visited that night in Levahn. Maybe it was the pointed arches and the alcoves.

"It's the ceremony room," Gourry said absently as he disappeared into one of the alcoves. A moment later, Lina heard the grinding sound of moving stone from the northern side of the room.

"A secret passage?" she asked excitedly, forgetting all feelings of reverence as her thoughts whirled at the prospect of hidden treasure. She hurried over to watch one of the flagstones lower and recede under its neighbors, exposing a stairway leading down.

Gourry gave her an odd look. "It leads to the crypt," he said finally. "And, Lina?" he asked over his shoulder as he started down the stairs. "No looting."

Lina stuck her tongue out at his receding back and then followed him down, casting a light spell to illuminate the way before them.

The passageway was smooth on either side, lined with large slabs of tightly fitted marble. She could just barely detect the faint scent of decay one associated with crypts as they followed the spiral passage deeper into the earth. After a few moments, they came to a seemingly impenetrable wall blocking the end of the stairway. As Gourry stepped off the final stair, Lina heard twin grinding noises—one from the movement of the wall in front of them, the other from far above. As the passageway opened, the faint odor of decay became overwhelming. Lina increased the intensity of her light spell and nudged it forward so she could get a better view.

Beyond the foot of the stairs was small circular room. Dark paths led off from the room at regular intervals, giving Lina the impression that she was at the hub of a wheel, each path a spoke. However, most of her attention was focused on the dead body that had suddenly toppled into their path when the passageway had opened. Well, that explained the smell.

Gourry gave the body a cursory glance before swearing softly under his breath.

"What?" Lina asked, giving the body a closer look. It was rather bloated and she figured that whoever it was had been dead for about a week or so. "Looks like a bandit," she finally offered.

"Probably," Gourry said shortly. "I guess it was too much to hope that no one had found this place." Lina heard both disgust and impotent fury in his tone.

"What'd you expect?" Lina asked as she considered the best way to get rid of the corpse. "An ancient ruined keep like this is any treasure hunter's dream, and it _has_ been a bandit base for who knows how long?" She finally decided that a localized variant of blast ash would be most efficient.

"Is it too much to hope that the dead will be left in peace?" Gourry shot back.

Lina finished her spell and turned to look closely at Gourry. "They're _dead_, Gourry. What do they care?"

"The dead are people, too." He set his jaw stubbornly.

Lina ground her teeth in frustration. She had no desire to get embroiled in an argument about the ethical treatment of the dead, so she changed the subject. "I wonder how he died," she said as she nudged her toe at the gritty grey ash that was all that remained of the corpse.

"Stuck, I'd guess," Gourry replied, sounding quite satisfied.

"Stuck? How?" Lina suddenly remembered that she had heard the faint sound of moving rock above them.

"It's the way the crypt is built," he explained. "The entrance in the ceremony room closes when the door to the crypt itself is opened."

"Okay," Lina said slowly. "So how do you get out of here, then?"

"Well, normally you'd just have someone flip the switch in the alcove, same way I opened it before."

"How do _we_ get out of here, Jellyfish?" Lina demanded with some ire. "Who's going to flip the switch for us?"

"The other way," Gourry continued as if Lina had not interrupted, "is to use one of three things: the Gabriev signet, the hilt of the main-gauche, or the hilt of the Sword of Light." He paused and gave Lina a very penetrating look. "You _are_ wearing the signet, right?"

"Of course I am!" she retorted, her hand automatically tracing the line of the gold chain Gourry had bought to replace the thong.

"Then we have nothing to worry about, do we?" He gave her that easy-going grin that somehow managed to be encouraging and infuriating at the same time. Then his smile faded. "C'mon," he said, holding out his hand.

He led her across central room and into the passageway opposite the stairs. Now that she was less distracted by the dead body, she could see that about half of what she had taken for passages were actually deep niches carved into stone, alternating with passages. Along the passage Gourry led her, there were more niches, spaced at regular intervals. Most were occupied by a large block of granite supporting a carved sarcophagus. She lost count of how many they had passed when Gourry finally stopped. He paused for a moment, and then entered one of the niches. She waited in the corridor. From her position, she could see the heavy granite block, but there was no sarcophagus. Instead, the block was covered with a large faded tapestry that was awkwardly bundled.

The silence stretched out.

Finally, Gourry let out a long sigh. "I don't remember much," he said slowly. "I'm not really sure I was sane. I had planned to bury them last. I have a vague memory of apologizing to them about not having proper tombs. By rights they should each have their own alcove . . ."

Lina studied the tapestry that served as a communal tomb for Gourry's father, mother, and brother. She could easily picture him, exhausted and heartbroken, smeared with grime and sweat from his effort to bury the dead in the tamped earth of the bailey, bundling the mutilated corpses of his family and carrying them down here. It was no surprise that he remembered little. Lina loved her family very much. But with Gourry, it was different. It was more. She absently fingered the gold line that wrapped up her arm. For Gourry, the bond had to be deeper. It had to be _more_, whether it was the bond between lovers or the bond among family. Which explained why he had brought her down here. It was as close as he could come to introducing her to his family.

As if he had heard her thought, Gourry began to speak. "This is Lina Inverse," he said. "She's bossy, greedy, easily irritated, violent and stubborn."

"Hey!" Lina objected, stiffening automatically.

"She also eats like a horse and gets into more trouble than you could possibly imagine," Gourry continued affectionately, ignoring her protest.

"You forgot, 'Beautiful Sorcery Genius,'" Lina prompted with a growl.

"And she's definitely not modest," Gourry added with a grin, deliberately ignoring the daggered look she shot at him. "She's called 'Dra-Mata,' 'Dragon-Spooker,' and 'Enemy-of-all-Who-Live.' But in spite of all that, I think you'd all like her."

"What kind of introduction is that?" Lina demanded.

"An honest one?" he asked in return as he placed his arm around her and pulled her close.

Lina struggled half-heartedly against him, but she subsided at his next words.

"I've promised to stay with her forever," he said as he gave her shoulder a quick squeeze and held her tighter. "She's the woman I love."

In spite of all her faults. Which he had just so accurately listed. Part of her wanted to kick some sense into him for such an unflattering introduction. But she understood. It was a part of that deeper bond. There were no lies, no hidden agendas between Gourry and his family. And suddenly, she had just a glimmer of insight into why he had seemed so mentally battered and bruised after spending so much time with Gisella, and why he never seemed to mourn her death. She also understood why she had instinctively thought that Gourry should return to his home. Still, she was personally quite relieved that there were no living relatives to impress, particularly since she would have started at such a distinct disadvantage. Gourry may love her in spite of—or maybe even because of—her nature, but that did not necessarily translate to the in-laws. She had to wonder how _her_ family would react if she introduced Gourry as a Yogurt-for-Brains Jellyfish. She shook her head slightly and grimaced. Luna would most likely lecture her for poor manners. It may be an accurate description of his mental prowess—or lack thereof—but she wanted her family to be impressed with her mate, not questioning her sanity.

Finally, Gourry finished his conversation with his family, and they walked back in silence toward the stairs. Lina understood that the tour was over, and it was time to put her plan into motion. If anything, seeing the wrecked remnants of Gourry's childhood home strengthened her resolve.

They were in the middle of the circular room Lina had dubbed "the hub" in her mind when Gourry suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, startling her out of her thoughts.

"What?" she asked automatically as she followed his gaze to a passageway just to the right of the stairs. It was nearly overflowing with objects, many of which sparkled and glinted enticingly in the light of her spell. "Ah!" she exclaimed as she drifted over. "So that's where it is!"

Gourry grabbed her elbow. "What do you mean, 'that's where it is'?" he demanded.

"Oh, c'mon, Gourry," she said as she twisted her arm free of his grip. "We haven't seen anything all afternoon. The bandits had to be storing their loot somewhere!" She skipped over to examine the pile, picking up a silver serving tray.

"Hey!" Gourry exclaimed as he snatched the tray out of her hand. "That's not bandit loot! It belongs to my family!" He tried to interpose himself between her and the pile, spreading his arms out as if to guard it from her.

Lina easily dodged him and scooped up another object. "It can't _all_ be yours," she protested, holding up a silver cup shaped like a skull with rubies in the eye-sockets. "I really can't see something like this sitting on the Gabriev dining table."

"Okay, maybe it's not all my family's," Gourry conceded, "but _most_ of it is." He pointed at a pile of heavy blue velvet. "Those used to be on the bed in my room."

"Gourry," Lina pointed out reasonably, "I don't think your family really needs it any more. Besides, according to principles of the transfer of property ownership, it technically moved into the possession of the bandit gang, and since we just defeated them, their property is now ours. So what's the harm of us going through it for the most valuable stuff?"

"Lina," Gourry growled, "I'm not going to sit here and watch you loot my family's possessions."

Lina shrugged, a deliberately casual move that was orchestrated to goad him exactly where she wanted him. "Okay, so assuming you can stop me, how do you plan to stop the next group of bandits who decide to take up residence here?"

She watched him process that question. His brow furrowed and he slowly lowered his arms to his side.

"The way I see it," she said finally, "there are three options." She held up three fingers and started ticking them off. "First, you can let me take whatever's valuable, or accept that someone else will come behind us and do it. Second, I could destroy the entire place with a Dragon Slave. That way no one gets anything."

"And the third?" he asked tightly.

"We could rebuild," she said simply.

His face brightened momentarily, and then it fell. "No."

"Why not?" Lina asked, marshalling all her arguments. She was pretty sure it would be easy to make him see things her way.

"Two reasons," he said shortly. "Too expensive, and I've seen your idea of 'rebuilding.' No way I want my family's keep turned into some crazy looking wacko place."

"Pfft," Lina waved her hand dismissively, although she felt a bit miffed. "That stuffy temple needed some character. Besides, those dragons at the Fire Dragon Temple got what they deserved, making us rebuild when it wasn't even our fault." She unfastened her cloak and lay it out on the floor. "First of all, money isn't an issue." She pulled assorted small items from various pockets, organizing them carefully, remembering Xellos's shocked expression when she had produced the equivalent of five and a half million with a bundle of crowley roots, two meltian potions, a radilin ring, a remtite gem, and a crufer pill. If she was going to carry her wealth with her—and given her peripatetic lifestyle, that was pretty much the only option—it had better be small, portable, and incredibly valuable. "I won't bore you with all the names," she said, glancing up at Gourry, "but suffice to say that I've got enough here to buy half the city of Seyruun if I wanted. I think it should be more than enough to get Gabriev Keep back into operational status. We should even have enough to hire an initial staff."

Gourry stared at her, his mouth opening and closing silently several times. Finally, he found his voice. "Who are you, and what have you done with my Lina?" he asked weakly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lina demanded.

"After all those times you've made me pay for _everything_, you're offering to pay millions to fix something that isn't even yours?" he shot back.

Her eyes glinted dangerously. She ripped off one of her gloves and shoved her sleeve up, exposing the deep red line that twined across her fingers and up her arm. "Do you remember what I said?" she asked softly but intently.

Understanding dawned slowly in his eyes.

"'Everything that I am, I give to you.'" Lina gestured down at the items arranged on her cloak. "'All that you are, I claim for myself.'" She gestured at the room around them. "I told you earlier, this place is a part of who you are," she said angrily. "If you reject my claim to this place, you reject the bond between us."

Gourry reached down and took her hand, arranging his grip to align the pattern that marked them both. "I remember what you said," he said slowly. "And I remember what I said," he continued, tightening his grip until it was nearly painful.

As quickly as it had blossomed, her anger faded. "'You'll never be free of me. Ever.'" She quoted his words back to him.

Gourry nodded, and the strength of his grip eased. "Why?" he asked.

Lina pulled her arm gently from his grip and turned in a slow circle, her arms spread out. "I want some stability," she finally said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not talking about settling down," she said with a small laugh. "I just want . . . a home."

"And?" Gourry pressed.

"I know you," she said simply. "You were willing to walk away without a backward glance however many years ago it was, when you thought that all that was left was you and a sword." She caught his eyes with her own. "How long had you planned before those were gone, too?"

Gourry flinched, confirmation enough that her guess was not far from the mark.

"I know you," she repeated. "You're not really a possessive person, not like me," she said self-deprecatingly. "But the things that belonged to your family are different." She ticked items off on her fingers. "The Sword of Light. The tapestry. The main-gauche." She paused. "This keep." She paused again. "Can you really walk away from here, knowing that some other bandit gang will move in, probably before we're even over the horizon?"

"No," he answered honestly. "But . . ." He trailed off, looking from her to the walls around them. "As long as I thought it was just me, I never looked back. I never thought of coming back. I never even thought it would be possible," he finally said, before another lengthy pause. "I don't even know what to think, now," he confessed.

"I want this," she said intently. "For selfish reasons: I want the castle and the servants."

"Figures," Gourry replied with a snort.

"And for unselfish reasons, too," she continued, glaring at him for his interruption.

"How long have you been planning this?" he asked, ignoring her glare.

Lina pulled a folded piece of parchment out of a pocket in her cloak and handed it to him. "Ever since I realized what this was."

Gourry slowly unfolded the parchment Lina had found hidden beneath the flyleaf of a book back in Gisella Gabriev's room. His finger traced over the drawing of the central hub and its radial lines. "Where'd you get this?" he demanded.

"You'll never guess!" she said with a laugh.

"Do you realize this is the original plan for the Keep?" he asked incredulously. "It's been missing—"

"For a hundred years?" Lina interrupted innocently.

Gourry gaped at her.

"C'mon," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Finding information like that is child's play for a Sorcery Genius like Lina Inverse!"

"Lina . . ." he growled.

"Okay, okay," she capitulated. "I found it in that smut book you were reading in Gisella's room. Remember?"

"But how—"

"The script in the book looked about a hundred years old," she interrupted again. "It was an easy guess that the plans had been hidden that long."

"Well," Gourry said slowly, staring at the plans, "as long as we have something to follow that doesn't depend on your warped sense of architectural construction . . . _and_ you're willing to pay . . ."

"I knew you'd see things my way, Gourry!" she exclaimed gleefully. She scooped up the items on her cloak and stuffed them into a pocket before rushing toward the stairs. "C'mon," she called over her shoulder, "we've got a ton of work to do!"

She stopped when she noticed that Gourry was not following her. Ever so faintly, she heard him say, "I told you that you'd like her."

_Finit  
_

* * *

AN: Thanks to everyone who has stuck with the story over the past four years. It's hard for me to believe that this story has consumed so much of my life, and that a simple little plot bunny about breathing would turn into something so huge (239 pages on my hard-drive) with so many discrete plot threads.

Special thanks go to Filing Sloth, who has persevered as my beta-reader for three out of the four years this story has been in progress. He's encouraged me when I haven't felt like writing, brought a critical eye to characterization, and pushed me to develop ideas that I might have let fall by the wayside. He's been a sounding board, and given much-needed advice to help me whenever I've had that sinking feeling that I'd written myself into a corner from which there was no return. Most of all, he's become a good friend, and for that I am truly grateful. So thanks, 'Sloth!


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